The Lies We Hide
by RaptorSaysRawr
Summary: She was always there, lurking in the shadows as black as her name, waiting for her moment to strike. And there she would remain, forever the unloved, unwanted daughter of Bellatrix and Rodolphous Lestrange.
1. Artemis

_So it apppears I may have accidentally deleted this story in the place of another I was trying to get rid of on my account. It's painfully obvious that I am a huge idiot. Now that I've deleted the _right_ story, I'll reupload this. There will be a few minor changes but everything is virtually the same. I hope you enjoy! Tell me what you think?_

_And in other slightly irrelevant news, no one wants to see the Deathly Hallows pt 2 premiere with me. I do believe I need nerdier friends..._

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><p><span>Chapter 1: Artemis<span>

She was born to a pair that had neither want nor any need for her. This she was aware of, even at a fairly young age.

The conception happened at a most inconvenient time. The wizarding world was facing one of the greatest wars it had ever seen. Lord Voldemort or, as his devout followers called him, the Dark Lord was quickly gaining strength. All across Europe people were dying at his hands, or those of his followers. His aim was to rid the world of Muggles, half bloods, and Muggleborns. For a while it appeared he was finally having his way—and that was what scared people the most.

The Dark Lord was feared above all else, even more so than Grindelwald, whose name still brings chills to the wizards and witches that experienced his wrath. And now those living during the time of the First Wizarding War were faced with a constant daily fear. Anyone could be next, unless you were a pureblood. Muggles were ignorant to the problem. Half bloods and those born to Muggle parents were terrified. So scared, in fact, they never once said _his_ name. They only referred to him in passing as "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named". The followers of the Darkest wizard to ever grace the planet, known to the world as Death Eaters, were pleased with this turn of events. They could finally create the world they imagined was deserved of them.

There were two Death Eaters who were thought to be the Dark Lord's most loyal. One of the pair, however, was the most feared. Over the years she gained a sort of respect from her master, which only fueled the inane love she felt for him. Her husband, the other loyal follower, found her desire for their master rather foolish. After all, he wasn't the one married to her.

It dawned on him one day that he did not have an heir. He needed a little boy to carry on the family name, someone who could help the Lestrange family to survive. Without that, what would become of them? They would be lost among the many pureblood families that died out along the years. That just could not happen. His family was far too prestigious to simply disappear as if they never even existed.

He told his fears to his wife one day after they raided a lowly Muggle village. She stood before him, eyes staring intently as he made his speech. When he was finished speaking, she erupted into laughter. Her cackling rang through the house, echoing in his ears. His vision became tinted with red as he watched her, still chuckling heartily, point at him in amusement and vanish from the room. Sometimes he truly wondered why he married her, only to remember it was done for the "good of the family". Which is why she needed to supply him with a little Lestrange _immediately_.

He waited for her. He always found himself waiting for her. This time, however, he was not alone. An empty bottle of firewhiskey lay discarded at his feet as he slumped over in the plush upholstered chair his mother insisted on him acquiring. His fingers trailed the smooth material, fingering the tiny threads that were coming undone, quite like he himself was. He was losing it, he admitted to himself. Being married to _her_ was driving him insane. But she was a Black. Paired with his surname, marrying a Black gave him even more credibility. So he would lose his mind, if only to uphold his family's status.

She arrived a little past midnight, a smug smile plastered on her face. The look dimmed somewhat as she caught sight of him and the smell wafting off of his sleeping form. It was positively rancid and wholly intolerable. He was drunk and nothing good could surely come from this. She silently tiptoed past him, praying to Merlin he would not wake up. She thought she was home free as she bounded to the stairs until her foot collided with the bottle of liquor, sending it crashing into a million pieces as it hit the wall.

"Bella," he mumbled sleepily. Her breath caught. She instantly moved away but his hand caught her wrist. "Bella, I love you. I want you."

She tried to yank herself free from his grip but it was to no avail. He was fully awake now. He pulled himself up and came closer. His eyes were alive with a deep burning lust and for a moment, Bellatrix found herself frozen in fear. The fact that for once in her life she was afraid scared her even more.

Rodolphous pulled her towards him, his breath hot on her neck. He kissed her. She pushed him away. He grabbed her face and kissed her again. She flailed about, cursing herself for leaving her wand on the dining room table in a momentary lack of judgment.

"Mind yourself, woman," he murmured in his husky voice. His eyes bore into hers and she stopped moving. "This is the reason you married me, is it not?"

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. This was the point of marriage in the first place, after all. They needed to keep the race going. She promised her mother she would create another little pureblooded drone she could raise and style into a person of society's standards. It must be done. She dreaded the thought of what was going to happen but she gave in, making the act consensual. So she allowed her husband to drag her up the stairs and all but push her onto the bed. She allowed herself to be used for the purpose of creating another life. She allowed him to stroke her long wild hair when he was finished with her.

The only pleasure she got out of the experience was the fist to the nose she gave him along with her warning him to never touch her again. His face spouted blood and she refused to fix it, leaving his once handsome features slightly distorted.

Nine months later, Bellatrix was experiencing the worst thing in her entire life. She cursed Rodolphous to the lowest, fieriest pits of hell. Her mother and sister were positioned on either side of her, holding a hand and keeping the hair out of her sweaty face. A practiced Healer (the best money could buy) was trying to comfort her with words of the finality of the event. All the while she kicked and screamed in a very unladylike manner, shouting at her husband who was sitting in the next room with the other husbands.

Her mother grew frustrated with her behavior and had the audacity to smack her sharply across her cheek. Silence prevailed as Bella and Cissa stared in shock at Druella. Then Bellatrix realized the pain was diverted from the labor to her face, a pain she could handle, if only for a moment. Once it died down and she was thrown back into the unbearable hurt she began acting up again. She shouted at her mother, begged her to slap her again, hit her, do anything, _anything_ if it would make the pain go away. Narcissa shook her head, suppressing a chuckle. Her sister could be very dramatic.

The birth was excruciating. After the first few hours, Druella began to pity her daughter, for her own labor was not nearly as horrible as this. That should have been a sign right then and there that this child would be nothing but trouble. Several long hours later, a baby came into the world, screaming its lungs off. Bellatrix, highly relieved, fell back into her pillows. She took one look at the shriveled thing with obscene vocals and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Had that truly come out of her?

The midwife bundled the baby in a blue blanket, cooing sweet words at it. Bellatrix rolled her eyes. The woman seemed absolutely ridiculous. The baby was handed to her and she looked at it, boredom etched into her face. Just as Rodolphous entered, however, another emotion took over. Rodolphous found the confusion in his wife's eyes and immediately looked to his child, brimming with pride at the birth of the Lestrange heir. He stopped in his tracks, slowly sinking onto the bed beside Bella. They shared a startled glance. Something was most certainly wrong. Or rather, something was missing, that something being the difference between a male and a female. Their new child was a _girl_.

Discovering that they had created a female rather than the desired male had sent Bellatrix into a rage.

"I went through _hell_ and for what?" she exclaimed loudly, depositing the child into her sister's eager arms.

"But all is not lost, Bella!" Narcissa tried consoling her.

"How are we supposed to keep the Lestrange name alive?" Rodolphous asked miserably. Then he perked up. "Perhaps we shall try again?"

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Bellatrix snapped. "Or do you want me to fix your nose and then break it again, you bloody bastard!"

"Watch your tongue Bella," Druella admonished, gathering the first grandchild she would actually acknowledge in her arms. "You seem to be forgetting that I never had a son."

"You didn't need one! You had me and Cissa!"

"But no one to carry on the Black name."

"There's always that blood traitor Sirius," Rodolphous reminded her. The three women visibly cringed. "We on the other hand…if we don't have a son, there is no guarantee my brother will have a child to carry on the name. We're doomed." He hung his head in sorrow.

"Oh, grow up," his wife said quite rudely, smacking him on the back of the head. "Why don't you be useful and get out so I can rest?"

Rodolphous shot her a cold glare. "Don't you want to name the girl?"

She shrugged. "Why bother? She's of no use to me."

Narcissa gasped. "You can't be serious? Are you to neglect the child simply because of what she cannot do? She's not quite a day old yet and you've already made up your mind?"

"Cissy, what am I supposed to do with a _girl_?" Bellatrix asked, saying the last word as if it were something filthy.

"The same thing I did," Druella responded, a note of finality in her voice. "I loved you and your sisters, even if it wasn't what I was expecting and I still love you both." No one said anything about the fact that she conveniently left out one sister. "Name the girl and treat her right for if you don't, I want nothing to do with you Bellatrix. She has done nothing wrong, at least not yet. We've no idea how she will turn out. If you raise her right we can avoid another slipup such as your other sister or your cousin. Do you understand me?"

Bellatrix nodded numbly. "Yes mother."

"Now for a name. What did you have in mind?"

Rodolphous ran a hand through his dark hair. "Well for a _boy_ I wanted him to be called Artemis."

They all gazed at the sleeping baby girl held tightly by her grandmother whose eyes held nothing but admiration.

"She's lovely," Druella whispered. Narcissa nodded in agreement but the Lestranges raised their eyebrows. "I do believe Artemis would be a suitable name."

"But it sounds so masculine," Bella commented.

"Artemis was a female, you know," Narcissa said but no one paid any attention to her.

"I don't know if we should just pass on the name we would've given our son. What if we _do_ have a boy and the name suits him more?"

"Are you saying there's hope?" Rodolphous asked eagerly.

"In your dreams."

He frowned and slumped back in his seat, arms crossed.

"I say you just call her Artemis," Narcissa suggested.

"I believe it's fitting," Druella agreed, handing the newly named girl over to her mother.

Bellatrix shifted the blankets out of the baby's face and gazed at the little thing. Her eyes were open and mother couldn't help but notice the intuitive nature her daughter's stare held, especially for such a young thing. She yawned suddenly, startling Bellatrix. Her button nose scrunched up with the action and her hands closed unconsciously around her mother's finger. Bella had to confess she was kind of cute. Only a little.

"Welcome to the world Artemis Lestrange," she whispered as the baby's eyes closed once more.

/

Growing up with the Lestranges had been no easy feat. Artemis Lestrange knew they did not love her – they merely tolerated her presence. They gave her the necessary tools of survival but they did not give her the affection she craved, at least not at the start. Perhaps that is why she became the way she is.

Rodolphous never showed neither like nor dislike for her. He remained completely indifferent to her existence, though there was always a slight iciness to his behavior around his daughter. She craved his attention, wanting nothing more than to be held in his arms like the sons and daughters of his friends were. At times she would climb into his lap as he sat in his favorite armchair reading and wrap her little arms around his neck. In a good mood he would leave her and pretend she wasn't even there. In a bad mood he would sneer and shove her off. When he did this she'd huff in irritation and storm off, knocking a vase down along the way. Rodolphous would merely sigh and continue his reading.

Bellatrix, however, displayed an overt hatred to Artemis. When the tiny girl ran about the lawns giggling like mad she would glare daggers, shouting out of the window that she was being far too loud. When Artemis tested her like she did her father by sidling onto her lap, Bellatrix would stand and laugh as her daughter fell to the ground with a thud. She'd often be overheard telling her family how much of a disgrace Artemis was to the family, that she would never amount to a thing. And when her only child expressed the (dying) love she felt for her mother, Bellatrix would tell her love is a pointless emotion and she should stop being so stupid. The young girl tried her hardest to become immune to her parents' treatment, to the dirty looks and harsh words, to the stories of how much she was a disappointment, to the constant reminders of how different she was.

Artemis Lestrange was indeed an odd child. She was tiny, much smaller than others her age. Her hair was a tangled mass of dark black curls, much like her mother. Her eyes were a mixture of an icy blue and a stormy gray, a combination of both her parents. She gained her father's intelligence, becoming the smartest child in the present pureblood society. It became quite clear, though, that she had her mother's temperament.

At a young age she was introduced to a former Hogwarts professor who became her tutor. He was the first person, beside her aunt Narcissa, who showed her any kind of affection. It was from him she learned to read, speak fluent French, and play piano. One afternoon as her parents returned from their meeting with the Dark Lord she serenaded them with Beethoven's "For Elise" as she recited a new poem she learned in French. She had the vain hope that this act would win them over. As she watched their retreating backs with a frown she realized that maybe her mother was right—she _was_ stupid.

So she avoided them at all cost, instead accompanying her aunt to tea at an acquaintance's home. She was made into the perfect little girl squeezed into flouncy little sundresses with impeccable poise and manners. The elder women drooled over her, passing her back and forth as they squealed with excitement over how "simply divine" she was or looked on with envy as they had all been unfortunate enough (or lucky in her mother's opinion) to have sons rather than little girls they could dress up. They displaced all of their lost affection on her and she initially loved it. But then everyone knew her temper, as she grew irritated with the whole act.

Artemis was a danger to the world, something no one wanted to admit upon first sight. She was perhaps the loveliest child anyone could lay eyes on. Her looks greatly resembled her mother, who was a true beauty. But, as so clearly noted, she was an exact copy of Bellatrix down to the behavior. When her temper flared, one would do best to avoid her at all cost. A rather dimwitted woman of pureblood society by the name of Nettie Goyle made the mistake of getting on the young child's bad side at a function put on by the Malfoy family, resulting in her arm being magically broken in three different locations. Another time, a little boy called Alfred Witter went so far as to bully Artemis into getting his way. He was found struggling in a large tree, a vine wrapped tightly around his throat. On a different occasion, a man and his wife insulted her parents and were nearly burned to death. Completely spooked, they relocated their family to Ireland under a different name.

No one suspected a thing. Every occurrence was believed to be a sick joke, or even a horrible accident. But someone began to notice the coincidences. Every "accident" happened to someone who had wronged the youngest Lestrange in some way. Every person was hurt after they did something to anger her. Fingers were being pointed. Accusations were being made. The women of the society shunned her. The men looked at her in a bit of a fearful awe. The children cowered in fear under her steely gaze. Bellatrix knew her daughter was the cause of the harm but she was still angered by the allegations and maltreatment directed at the girl (was that her maternal instinct kicking in?).

She was angry, that is, until _he_ caught wind of it.

The Dark Lord saw great promise in young Artemis Lestrange. She was sharp, cunning, and incredibly powerful. She would be of great value to him once she was older, that he was sure of. Perhaps she would be his greatest asset in his mission of reigning over the Wizarding world. There was no doubt her parents would be thrilled, particularly her mother.

Maybe Bellatrix finally loved her once she heard this. Maybe only a little.

Artemis demonstrated a great blood lust that gave Bellatrix immense pride. She would gladly perform a harmful hex on another so long as it provided her the pleasure of seeing someone, preferably a filthy Muggle-born, squirm like the rubbish they were. Or perhaps she would torture a rodent she discovered in the forest just outside of her home when she grew bored. Bellatrix loved her opinions on lowly beings almost as much as her actions against them.

Cygnus and Druella, though disappointed that their eldest had not bore a male heir, invited the Lestrange family over to their home for tea. Druella would not admit it to anyone but she was rather eager to meet Artemis. She did not care of her sex; she was merely thrilled that she finally had a grandchild (she still refused to consider Andromeda's child family). So when she subtly shoved aside her daughter and son-in-law after hugging them briefly, she couldn't help the warm smile that spread across her face as her eyes fell on the girl for the second time in her life. There was a tiny scowl etched onto her beautiful face but a hint of wonder in the startling gray eyes that surveyed the Black home. She tugged at the uncomfortable blue dress her mother wrestled her into as her grandmother watched her intently. The stare was causing her a great deal of discomfort. But Druella could not look away. This child, the tiny girl, looked so much like her first two daughters, particularly Bellatrix. Her breath caught as she gently stroked the wild curls held up with a blue silk ribbon.

"It is lovely to meet you, Artemis," she murmured.

Artemis told her how pleased she was to meet her as well and bravely stepped forward into the home. "Why do you keep those?" she asked.

Everyone looked toward the direction her tiny hand pointed.

"It is how they wish to be represented after death," Cygnus answered. His response did not seem to suit her as she frowned while eyeing the house elf heads lining the wall with obvious contempt.

"But do you truly think they deserve it?" she pressed, turning to her grandparents. "They're not even human. They're little creatures that are nothing but slaves to serve wizards. Do they deserve such noble dignity? Do you think so highly of them as to grant them a wish of decorating your home, something that seems to be deserved of only royalty?"

Cygnus's jaw tightened. Druella raised her brows. Artemis smirked. "I personally think they are a blemish on the Wizarding world. Why give them such height? Why not burn them?" she asked with a wicked gleam in her eye.

A tiny elf rounded the corner with the intention of escorting the family to the sitting room for tea. When he caught sight of the malevolent smile plastered on Artemis's face, he hastily turned on his heel, a terrified squeak leaving his lips.

Bellatrix made a note to dispose of the elf heads already sitting on a plaque in her home.

What Rodolphous loved (_loved?_) about Artemis was her intelligence (he assumed it came from him). While he wouldn't say anything to anyone, he felt great pride when she did something that showed off her genius. He would always remain indifferent to her but he honestly did care for her. He didn't realize it until an interesting conversation he had with her (one of the first conversations he ever had with her, actually).

He was sitting in his study moping about not having anyone to carry on the Lestrange name. There was always his brother Rabastan but he wasn't sure if he would be capable of handling a child. The Lestrange genealogy lay open on his desk. A sigh escaped his lips as his fingers idly traced the names of his immediate family.

"Father?"

He looked up and met the imploring gaze of his _daughter_. He scowled.

"What do you want?" he spat.

She took that as an open invitation to enter, though she clearly heard the harsh tone in his words.

"I wanted to ask you something."

"Why couldn't you ask your mother?"

She cocked her head to the side and studied him as if he were thick. "The same reason I can't ask you, but it is not stopping me."

That caught him off guard. "What do you mean?"

She crawled into the chair opposite him and stood on her knees as to see him clearly over the desk. "I know neither of you like me. You're a bit easier to talk to than mother, though." When he did nothing other than stare at her she rolled her eyes. "So can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

Ignoring him, she leaned forward. "Why did you name me Artemis?"

Rodolphous wasn't sure what he expected but it surely was not that. He sat a little straighter and cleared his throat. "It is the name we would have given you had you been born our son."

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "You mean it is what you would have named your son had he come out as your daughter, so therefore me?"

Rodolphous narrowed his eyes. "No, that is not what I mean. Artemis was the name of a great god who—"

She slammed a thick volume on the desk between them "That is where you are wrong, father. Artemis was the god_dess_ of the hunt. _Not_ a god. Perhaps you should read every now and then." With that said, she hopped out of the chair and sauntered out of the room.

Rage built up in Rodolphous's veins. How _dare_ that foul little girl insult him? He glanced at the page the book is open to and suddenly felt very foolish. It was a tome on Greek mythology. He quickly scanned the page and gathered enough information to realize that Artemis was indeed a goddess. How could he be so stupid? He looked up in time to see his daughter throw a smirk in his direction. He stared after her in awe.

There was one thing Artemis did that significantly impressed both of her parents. Apart from her studies, the Lestranges insisted on her taking up some sort of extracurricular activity. Druella thought it would be wise for her granddaughter to partake in dance but Bellatrix scoffed at that. Her child would not prance about like a little fairy. Artemis decided to take matters into her own hands and suggest something. She had enjoyed watching her father hunt and wanted to do just as he did. Because she was not allowed a wand, she needed an alternate method, which is how a prodigy was born.

Much like her namesake, Artemis became a skilled archer. Her instructor gifted her with a golden bow small enough for her to use properly that would grow as she did, as well a set of arrows. The beginning of her lessons were nearly disastrous—she grew so frustrated with her lack of progress she exploded the target, effectively singeing her instructor's eyebrows. She grew progressively better as time went. After a week she could land a bull's eye; after two weeks she could knock an apple off of the instructor's head, with a flaming arrow after three. A month after her first lesson, she was taken on a hunt with her father. Rodolphous caught a small fox with the aid of his wand but he was shocked to discover Artemis had single-handedly incapacitated a full grown stag with her bow and a single arrow. To say he was impressed was an understatement.

With her remarkable skills, Rodolphous and Bellatrix knew their little girl would follow in their footsteps and assist the Dark Lord.

They were never given the chance to see that firsthand, however, as fate interfered.

The night of Halloween dawned bleak and terribly strange. Artemis had been curled up in her father's favorite armchair positioned before the roaring fireplace of the library. The words scrawled neatly into the large volume pressed into her lap began to blur in a drowsy parade of exhaustion. Her heavily hooded eyes were waging war with sleep and it appeared young Artemis would not win the battle. On a typical night, Bellatrix would have been in the room an hour ago shouting at her to get up to bed.

But she never came.

The sound of a door slamming somewhere downstairs caused her to give a little jerk as she swam back into the realm of the conscious. She fished a handkerchief out of the pocket of her robes and wiped away the sleeper's spittle lingering in the corner of her mouth. With the stealth of the snake she truly was, she shelved her book and crept out into the heart of the house. She and the shadows were one as they silently crept towards the sound of voices.

Bellatrix and Rodolphous could be seen from the doorway. They were discussing something in hushed murmurs, with the sound of others joining in where appropriate. Out under the night sky witches and wizards left behind their coveted secrecy to dance and holler throughout the streets. Shouts of glee or horror (Artemis could not quite tell) drifted up to her. Fireworks rolled gaily over the heads of those assembled.

"…can't do this!" the voice of her aunt Narcissa suddenly pleaded. Artemis eased the door open slightly so the blond woman was in her line of vision. "Think about your daughter!"

"He needs us, Cissa!" Bellatrix snapped. "You and your husband can cower here while Rod, Rab, and I take action. This was not supposed to happen!"

"Does anyone know what went wrong?" Rodolphous asked as he massaged his throbbing temples.

"No, I don't think anyone does," Rabastan answered. "The only thing I heard was the Potters are dead but the boy somehow lived."

Artemis didn't know what to make of what she was hearing. She knew the Dark Lord wanted the Potters and he was putting his plan into motion sometime soon, but what could have possibly went wrong? What did Aunt Cissy not want her sister to do, and what could she, Artemis, possibly have to do with it? Her inner musings were interrupted by a dark shadow falling across her hiding spot in the doorjamb.

"You do realize it is quite rude to eavesdrop, do you not?" Lucius sneered, looking down upon her like she was scum.

"Bring her here!" Bellatrix called. Artemis growled as Lucius roughly grabbed her arm and forced her into the open view of the sitting room. "I thought you were sleeping?" her mother asked in a deadly calm voice.

"The people in the streets woke me up," she lied, daring to stare the older woman in the eye.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. She shocked the entire room when she suddenly kneeled before Artemis and pulled her closer. "Listen to me." She grabbed her face and forced her to look her in the eye. "Are you listening?" Artemis nodded. "Right. No matter what happens tonight I want you to remember everything your father and I have told you. Do I make myself clear?"

"What's happening?" Artemis whispered. "What are you going to do?"

"Don't worry about it." She stood and placed a tentative hand on her daughter's unruly hair. "Just remember."

"Bella," Narcissa choked out. "You don't have to do this. You know they'll find you! There are far too many Aurors out tonight!"

"It's her death sentence," Lucius responded coolly.

"What is it?" Artemis demanded, this time more urgent. "Please tell me what is happening!"

"Your parents are being extremely…idiotic," Lucius told her in a bored voice. "I do hope you've gained some of the intelligence they don't have."

"Stop it!" Artemis shouted. Her face darkened and her fists clenched. Her parents may not have been the nicest people in the world but when someone spoke against them, they would most certainly pay. She felt the magic building up inside of her and before she could even blink, Lucius was lying on the floor.

"Lucius!" Narcissa collapsed beside him, tears streaming down her pretty face.

"Remember Arty," Bellatrix said before grabbing a hold of her husband's hand. She flashed a wicked grin that Artemis returned. Her mother rarely called her by her nickname. In a matter of seconds, the three Lestranges were gone.

"No!" Narcissa jumped to the spot they had just been. "No, they can't do this!"

"Let it go, Narcissa!" Lucius shouted, smacking his wife sharply across the cheek. "If they want to get sent to Azkaban, so be it! I am not risking myself for them!"

Artemis knelt beside her aunt who resembled nothing more than a crumpled heap on the floor. She stroked her pale blond hair and turned a venomous glare on her uncle. Before she could make a biting remark that would no doubt cause another "accidental" magical incident, Narcissa grabbed her small hand.

"You look so much like Bella, you know that?"

Artemis nodded.

"You're a beautiful girl, so much like my Bella. She's my sister; I can't let anything happen to her!" She bit back a sob and sighed. "She's going after the Aurors. She was already out but she came here to make sure you were okay…It may not seem like it but she loves you, dear."

"She's never told me," Artemis retorted coldly.

"She never tells anyone. But I know she does. And I know we both love her as well. I promise you, Arty, that if anything happens I will look over you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

And with those words said, the pair fell into a fitful slumber, holding one another on the cold floor.

/

Her mother had left her. Her _mother_ had _left_ her. _Her_ mother had left _her_. It did not matter how she said it, the fact remained the same—Bellatrix was gone. Rodolphous was as well but that did not hurt as much as Bella leaving.

They were in Azkaban. They had tortured the Longbottoms into insanity. That didn't faze Artemis. She personally thought they deserved it. They were filth in her mind. But her parents were _gone_. Why weren't they more cautious?

Narcissa told her Bellatrix went down as a hero, or so she heard. It was fitting. Her mother would do nothing less than substantial. But she did not want to believe she had left her.

"You're lying," Artemis hissed. "She would never leave me!"

"Arty, please," Narcissa repeated again in an exasperated tone. "She and your father are gone. I'm not sure if they'll ever come back."

"You're lying! They didn't leave! Watch, they'll be back soon and then we'll see who has the last laugh!"

"Artemis," she began in a menacing voice. "I don't have time for you. Your parents are _gone_. They have left you. Enough already!" She watched the anger rise into her niece's face and she was vaguely aware of her son playing in the corner of the room.

"You are _lying_," she countered again.

A flicker of light appeared on the edge of her vision. She paid no attention to it. "Did you not hear what your mother said? She knew what she was doing! She knew she would get thrown into prison!"

"Shut up."

The light grew brighter and began to move.

"Now if you'll please just behave and sit here for a second I'll—"

"No!"

"Don't you raise your voice!"

Draco mumbled something unintelligible. Narcissa sighed and looked over at him. Her eyes went wide.

"Arty."

Artemis continued staring at her aunt without speaking.

"Arty!" Her voice became more urgent as the fire she was sure Artemis conjured drew nearer her son. It seemed her calling only made it worse. Draco was literally in the line of fire.

"Artemis, stop it!" She slapped the girl and the fire instantly died down. Artemis stared at her in shock. "Go up to your room. Now." She shot one last glare before running up the stairs and slamming her door.

Narcissa scooped Draco into her arms and sought out her husband.

"Lucius, we cannot keep her."

"I'm glad you finally realized that," he drawled.

"She is a danger to our family. She nearly killed Draco!"

"Did she? We'll handle her in the morning then."

The next day, the Malfoys carried a Stunned Artemis through the streets of London. She knew what they were going to do and put up a great fight until Lucius decided to use magic against her, not before she inflicted injuries on him. There was a great gash etched onto his face that would not stop bleeding. He scowled at the child in his arms and continued his movement.

She woke up seated in an unfamiliar room. There were voices coming from the other side of the door. She observed her surroundings, reading the bits of paper positioned on the desk and an angry scream sounded through the building. A tall woman with mousy brown hair burst into the room. Artemis hopped out of her seat and advanced on the woman.

"She lied to me! She lied!"

"Darling, please calm down," the woman urged, placing a hand on Artemis's shoulder. She hastily withdrew it as she felt her fingertips burn.

"She promised me, and she promised her! She promised her sister she'd keep me!"

"Perhaps if you can tell me what the problem is?" the woman tried again to calm the frustrated girl.

Artemis kicked and screamed, struggling against that insufferable woman's futile grip. She was forced back into a chair where she continued to scream about broken promises. Narcissa and Lucius would pay for what they had done, that much she was sure of.

"Sweetheart, please calm down!" the woman begged.

"Why should I?" Artemis shouted. "My parents left me and now my aunt and uncle dumped me in some filthy orphanage with a crackpot! No one wants me! Why should I calm down?"

"Drink this, will you?" She handed over a tall glass filled with what looked like pumpkin juice. Against her better judgment, Artemis brought the glass to her lips and sipped it gingerly. Was she imagining the warm calm spreading through her system? "Now, does that feel better?" Artemis nodded. "I didn't know what to make of you when I opened the door and nearly stepped on you. You say your family just left you here? How strange… Well, my name's Victoria and I promise you we will give you a nice loving home that will bring you nothing but happiness. Does that sound good?"

"I suppose so."

"Will you tell me your name?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you won't tell anyone either."

"What do you mean?"

Artemis grinned cruelly as she felt her former anger seeping back into her pores. She focused all of her energy on Victoria and felt a wave of grim satisfaction hit her as the woman's eyes grew round in fear and her breathing came to a crashing halt.

"That's why you won't tell anyone," Artemis told the dead body before her. "I don't want help from filth like you. But if you must know, my name is Artemis. Not for long, anyway." She quickly rearranged her features and turned to the door. "Help!" she suddenly screamed. "Someone help me!"

Workers of the orphanage piled into the room and were absolutely dumbstruck at the scene that lay before them. The owner of the orphanage was dead in her seat and there was no one other than a frightened girl with her. Muggle policemen were called in, the body was removed, and all the while no one noticed the smug look on the nameless girl's face.

Reports were made in the Muggle newspapers, eventually leaking into an overlooked _Daily Prophet _article, one that caught the attention of Narcissa Malfoy.

"Wasn't that the woman who took in Artemis?" she asked her husband over breakfast one morning.

He accepted the offered paper from her and scanned the article. "Hmm, I suppose you're right."

"You don't think…?" she trailed off, though he knew for certain what she was thinking.

"Is a young child capable of such a thing?"

"Don't underestimate her. You seem to be forgetting who her parents are."

They went back to their meal without another mention of their lost niece. That was the last they ever heard of Artemis Lestrange.

Or so they thought.


	2. Insanity

_New chapter. I own nothing (only disclaimer I'm making). I did, however, use a bit of Jo's words in the court scene. I'm sure you can figure out which. And, as Jo said at the London premiere yesterday, "No story lives unless someone wants to listen." Let me know if you're listening? :s And to Racina Victorine Black, because I could not PM you I would like to thank you for your review here. Because you demanded an update would it be justified of me to demand a review? ;)_

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><p><span>Chapter 2: Insanity<span>

To say Bellatrix was upset by the turn of events would be an understatement.

She was not upset with where she was – no, quite the opposite. She had been sitting in her cell at Azkaban, leaning against the wall and picking at her nails in a bored fashion as she hummed some unrecognizable tune. For months she had been locked in this prison, forced to gaze at the dreary walls day in and day out. Those who had imprisoned her expected this to be some sort of punishment but she did not see it as that.

After she had left her home with her husband and brother-in-law, they headed straight for the main action. They found themselves in Godric's Hollow, where the insolent Potter family had lived in hiding, _had_ being the operative word. Her Dark Lord had seen to it that they lived no more. She smiled venomously at that. Good riddance. No one needed a filthy Mudblood and her blood traitor husband, as well as a disgusting little half-blood baby polluting their world.

Aurors had been called to the spot immediately. Witches and wizards trained in Defense were left to clean up the mess that had become of the Potter home and to reign in stray Death Eaters. From the shadows, she and Rodolphous had witnessed her cousin Sirius's downfall and the surprising genius of that pest Peter Pettigrew. She scowled as a rat scuttled past her shiny black boot, fighting the urge to stomp on the obnoxious little thing.

Bellatrix began wading through the throng of people celebrating what they thought was the end of the madness. Inconspicuously removing her Death Eater mask, she allowed her instincts to guide her where she knew _they_ would be. The Lestrange brothers followed after her, picking up on the exact train of her thoughts. They found themselves in a rundown cottage bordering the finer looking homes of the village. The home had been cast under the Fidelius Charm, just the same as the Potter residence. The enchantment had fallen, though, and Bellatrix came seeking answers. Her heels clicked angrily against the cold stone floor.

Suddenly, the three Lestranges were attacked from behind. She barely had time to draw her wand when a Stunner went soaring past them, hitting someone square in the chest. Barty Crouch Jr. appeared beside them, a malevolent glint in his eye. Bellatrix smiled contentedly, finally turning and pointing her wand at those who could be foolish enough to dare come against them.

"Ah, if it isn't the Longbottoms," Bellatrix chided, removing her wand from its holster as she spoke. Alice and Frank had their wands trained on her group. The Potters had been unprepared for an attack; the Longbottoms were smarter. "How's your filthy little brat?"

"Don't you dare talk about my son that way!" Alice shouted, throwing a hex towards Bellatrix who dodged it skillfully.

"Do you think it wise to challenge us when the numbers are so unfair? I don't think the ickle little Aurors can handle it!" Bellatrix said in a baby voice as she cast a curse in their direction.

"No, I don't think they have the capacity to defeat us, dear," Rodolphous agreed, casting his own curse. "They're nothing but a blemish on our society that ought to be removed."

"Which is why we're here," Rabastan continued harshly.

"You truly should realize the mess you've gotten yourself into," Barty said.

"I think we can manage," Frank said, dodging a jet of green light. "You all should be the ones worrying. We're well-trained, and there are plenty of Aurors just waiting to take you away."

"Tell us where the Dark Lord is!" Bellatrix demanded as she fired off another curse that just barely missed its target.

"We don't know what you're talking about!" Alice answered angrily.

"I believe you do," Rabastan said. "Now all we ask of you is to tell us the whereabouts of the Dark Lord."

"We don't know where he is or what happened," Frank spat venomously. "All we know is he killed the Potters and disappeared."

"_Crucio_!"

Frank screamed for a few seconds as Rodolphous performed the Cruciatus on him. Alice shrieked helplessly, pointing her own wand at the perpetrators.

"We won't ask you again," Rodolphous said in an eerie calm voice. "Tell us where he is and we'll let you walk away freely. We _know_ you know."

"We don't," Alice cried indignantly. Now it was her turn to scream as Barty tortured her.

As Bellatrix whirled out of the line of fire from several successive hexes, her face darkened as she aimed to hit them where it hurt. "What do you think little Neville will say when his _darling_ parents don't return home to stupidly _coo_ over him, hmm?"

Alice visibly blanched. Her shaky hands nearly dropped her wand as the dawning realization of what could possibly happen tonight hit her. In an instant, a hard edge came to her eyes as she approached Bellatrix.

"Probably the same thing your little girl will think when we cart you away to Azkaban," she whispered in a deadly voice.

Something inside of Bella snapped at those words. She was sure Rodolphous felt the same but it was nowhere near the magnitude it hit her. She raised her wand in a lightning flash, aimed it at Alice Longbottom, and shrieked,

"_Crucio_!"

Alice fell to the floor, writhing in pain. Her cries pierced the dark night but Bellatrix did not care. The younger woman begged for her to stop but she did not let up. Frank shouted in horror, trying desperately to save his beloved wife. He pointed his wand at Bellatrix but he suddenly collapsed as well under the force of Rodolphous's wand. Together the Longbottoms experienced great agony under the twinkling stars overhead. Bellatrix finally removed the curse, breathing heavily as she stared wild-eyed at the couple beneath her, as they should be. The screams relented but they remained trembling there.

"Are you sure you can handle us now?" Bellatrix demanded in monotone. "The way I see it, you both were terribly mistaken." She took a step back as the other two with her and Rodolphous took over their spots above the weakened Aurors, resuming the torture. She cackled madly at their pain.

The next few moments happened in a blur. Several Aurors Apparated around them. Instantly, she felt her limbs stiffen and she nearly toppled over but someone levitated her away. Her eyes searched franticly for who held her captive but all she could see was the pavement beneath her. Suddenly, she was slammed into a chair, now able to move. She looked around and saw her fellow Death Eaters beside her. They were in a room she did not recognize. From outside she heard raised voices with an incessant unintelligible babbling underneath.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" An Auror she did not know demanded after charging into the room. "Answer me, you scum!"

"We tortured the Longbottoms," Rodolphous answered coolly. "What of it?" For a moment she admired her husband's icy demeanor in such a situation.

The man grabbed a fistful of Rodolphous's robes, bringing their faces mere centimeters apart. "You did more than that!"

"I don't think it's wise to provoke him so," Bellatrix said, scowling at the idiotic man. "What more have we done? I do not recall killing anyone tonight, as much as I would have liked to."

"I don't recall that either," Rabastan agreed. "What about you, Barty?"

The younger man was a sickly pale color. He nodded shakily but said nothing.

"The Longbottoms are on the brink of insanity thanks to you lot," the Auror spat, shoving Rodolphous away angrily.

"What do you mean?" Rabastan asked.

"You tortured them into insanity! They won't recover from this!"

Bellatrix laughed cruelly. "Ah, a fate worse than death. A wonderful job lads!"

The brothers joined in her laughter while the nameless Auror watched in disgust.

"How could you get enjoyment out of something like this?" he asked incredulously. "I could never do such a thing to someone!"

"There in lies the difference between you and me, mister…?" Bellatrix trailed off, waiting for him to fill in his name.

"Joseph," the man said.

"Alright then," she said with a jovial clap of her hands. "Joseph, you and I are completely different people. You fight for the 'good', I the 'bad' as you would call it. You squirm at the thought of using an Unforgiveable on another while I embrace it! There's such a thrill from using the Cruciatus on someone such as the Longbottoms that you just wouldn't understand. Actually, judging by your expression I feel you wouldn't mind using it on us at the moment, am I right?"

Joseph said nothing, simply glared at the horrid woman before him. She smiled sweetly.

"The Longbottoms are a disgrace to this society. I, along with my comrades here, did the world a favor. You should be thanking us."

Joseph slammed his fist angrily on the table he was sitting at. "Thank you? You want me to _thank you_? Why should I thank you for ruining my friends?" His voice cracked as tears threatened to spill over.

"I think you hurt his feelings, love," Rodolphous whispered, earning snickers from his wife and brother.

"You people…"

"Us people _what_?" Bellatrix wanted to know, leaning towards him.

"You people are the disgrace. I hope you're happy your _lord_ has fallen."

Bellatrix jumped to her feet, digging through her pockets for her wand. When she came up empty she shrieked in anger.

"Looking for this?" Joseph teased, waving her wand in his hand.

"Give it back," she demanded in a threatening tone.

"Sorry, I must follow orders." He scooped up the other wands from the table and pocketed them, heading for the door. "I do hope you all enjoy your stay in the Ministry. But don't get too comfortable," he warned. "Before you know it you'll be in Azkaban. Good night." He tipped his hat and was off. Bellatrix made to lunge for him but Rodolphous grabbed her around the middle.

"Get your filthy hands off of me!" she screamed.

"It's no use, Bella," he told her honestly, wincing as her nails scratched at his exposed flesh.

"Damn you, damn him, damn it all!" She fought against his grip but gave it up as a lost cause. She turned in the circle of his arms and smacked him.

"What in the name of Merlin was that for?" he demanded, standing up. Though he clearly towered over her, Bellatrix did not seem frightened by his anger.

"This is all your fault," she declared haughtily as she crossed her arms.

"_My_ fault? Whose idea was it to go to Godric's Hollow in the first place?"

"Rabastan's."

"_What?_" Rabastan asked incredulously. "That was not my idea! You're the one who wanted to go after the Dark Lord!"

"I believe you were the one who proposed the idea."

"No! Rodolphous, you know it was her idea!"

Rodolphous sighed and ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "Bellatrix, we all know it was you who wanted to go there."

"You're supposed to be on my side!" She shouted, slapping him again.

He grabbed her hand roughly, a menacing growl sounding through his clenched teeth. "You must stop that. I've never believed in hitting a woman but you make me doubt my decisions."

"Why don't you all just keep quiet," Barty ordered. He had been so silent everyone nearly forgot he was there.

"Oh, he speaks," Bellatrix said with a roll of her eyes.

"Don't any of you care that we're going to Azkaban?" he asked, obviously frightened by the idea. His eyes darted nervously from person to person.

The Lestranges shared a look before saying simultaneously, "No."

"You knew what you were getting into, Crouch," Rabastan reminded him. "There was always the threat of imprisonment or death."

"But we'll be sentenced for life!"

Bellatrix sauntered over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. She looked into his dirty brown eyes and smiled sultrily. He smiled back hesitantly, blown away by her close proximity. He hadn't noticed until now just how beautiful she was. Suddenly, she scowled and slapped him.

"What is with you and slapping today?" Rodolphous asked, suppressing a chuckle at the dazed look on Barty's face.

Barty gingerly touched his bruised cheek. "What did I do?"

"Get a hold of yourself, man!" Bellatrix instructed loudly, startling him. "You signed yourself up for this, did you not? You willingly got this!" She grabbed his arm and yanked up his sleeve, exposing the Dark Mark there. "This is a badge of honor! This entire situation is one you should look on with pride. We are doing what the Dark Lord wants of us! We were the only ones to seek him! And if we get sent to Azkaban, so be it." She shoved him away and seated herself again.

"She's right, you know," Rodolphous murmured after a tense silence. "You got yourself into this, Bart. All of what we do is for a worthy cause. It _is_ something we should be proud of."

"But I'm going to rot in prison!" Barty exclaimed. "How am I to carry on the Dark Lord's work like that!"

Rabastan had to restrain Bella from slapping him again.

"Just shut up, will you?" she settled on instead of physical force.

The four Death Eaters sat in the dark room in silence, awaiting their fate.

The trial was scheduled for a few months after the Potters' death. Bellatrix, Rodolphous, Rabastan, and Barty Jr. were prohibited from returning home with the full use of their wands, as Aurors were afraid they would seek out others to torture. They were housed in makeshift cells in the Ministry, living as if nothing were wrong. All except for Barty, that is. He grew more anxious as the days went by. His nervous twitch increased tenfold, only stopped by the occasional smack from Bellatrix. She was quite handy without a wand.

Though the idea of living imprisoned for the remainder of their lives was not at all appealing, the Lestranges were unperturbed by their futures. What was driving them insane was the wait. It was as if they were living on pins and needles. All knew what would become of them but there was always that faint glimmer of hope that was magnified in people like Barty. It was life or death, and they would not find out for certain for quite some time.

The New Year came and still, they had not gone under trial. The pesky Auror Joseph would often visit the captives, taunting them about their lack of freedom. Bellatrix wanted desperately to wrap her hands around his throat until he could no longer breathe. When he wasn't being a bother, he actually proved quite useful. He explained the reason for the holdup was the sudden flux of proven Death Eaters that were also being put on trial. He promised that by tomorrow, they would no longer see him, something Bellatrix was quite thankful for.

And, surprisingly enough, he was right.

Dementors escorted them into one of the courtrooms. The icy chill emanating from the foul beings made her skin crawl. She knew, however, that they were on her side. No one other than her fellow Death Eaters were aware of this fact but one day she was sure they would be. She walked into the room of her peers with her head held high and seated herself in the chair, her whole demeanor being that of royalty. She was above these people, even if she was physically below them at the moment. They were scum beneath her feet. If the Dark Lord weren't missing, he would praise her for what she had done, which is why she did it. He would respect her decisions and look at her not like the people in this room were, like she was some sort of common criminal. No, she was far better than that. Ruthless, yes, but she was no criminal. She was all for working for the better good and if that included torturing lowly people, it would be done.

Her eyes scanned those looking down on her and the others. She saw Barty Crouch Sr. and she was sure his son was twitching like mad. For a moment, she locked eyes on a pair of twinkling blue ones that showed nothing but disappointment. She smirked at Albus Dumbledore before turning back to Crouch as he read what she was here for. When she was able to speak, she told him the truth:

"The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban; we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!"

They turned hateful eyes on the four as the verdict was met with an unsurprised audience. Barty pleaded with his father, proclaiming he was innocent though everyone knew he was not. He may be a loyal Death Eater but seeing him grovel like that made Bellatrix turn her nose up at him daintily. While he shouted at his senior, she gracefully left the courtroom with her family, prepared for the many years ahead.

Now here she was, sitting in her cell with chains wrapped tightly around her skinny wrists. She sighed and scratched at the raw skin under the metal. They would not be there for very long, she had been told. When she proved herself trustworthy, the chains would be removed. How long that would take was anyone's guess.

It had been months since the trial and she was happily acquainted with the walls holding her captive. They were a lovely gray color that went perfectly with her eyes and the hideous outfit she was forced to wear. She was gifted with a small cot shoved in a corner with a thin blanket and a flat pillow. Just outside her door was a pair of Dementors ready to act if she did anything wrong. How that would be possible without a wand and while she was currently shackled to a wall was simply beyond her.

The Lestrange brothers and Barty were in cells nearby. She hadn't had much communication with them but she had heard Barty whimpering for his mother in the night. After a while, he quieted down. Perhaps the Dementors had finally affected him. She herself felt the occasional despair they forced but there was still a bit of hope left in her system; hope that one day, the Dark Lord would rise again and save her, her being his most loyal servant. Her heart ached when she thought of never seeing him again. In a twisted way she supposed she loved the man, though he would probably never feel anything such as that towards anyone, including her. She was certain that he had not perished with whatever happened with the Potters. A young child could not kill a man as powerful as he. It was purely impossible. He was alive and he would come into being once more. But when?

Another matter pressing into her mind was her family. She knew where her husband and brother-in-law were. Something that bothered her she had not seen her sister. She believed she and Narcissa held a close bond. The two were always together, though, she had to admit, never as close as she and Andromeda had once been. Some far off part of her mind whispered words of how she longed to see her other sister once more, for old time's sake. But she shoved those thoughts aside and focused on the situation at hand: Narcissa had not been to see her. Why?

And then there was a fact that bothered her maternal side: Artemis. The girl was young and in need of guidance. Now her parents were imprisoned, the two people she looked up to and loved more than anyone in the world, even if they weren't always so nice to her. She sometimes regretted the way she treated her daughter—she knew in her heart that she did not despise Artemis. Perhaps what she did not like was the prim and proper lifestyle she was forced to live, plus the added pressure of maintaining the family line with a son. When she found out she had had a girl, she was distraught. It was not what was to be expected. Which is why she treated Artemis like she was dirt. The girl only wanted love but she hardly got it. Bellatrix did not love her; no, even today she was certain it was not love she felt for her only child. It was more of a fond tolerance.

She was startled from her musings by a commotion outside of her cell. Tentatively, she approached the bars keeping her locked inside. She could see the cells opposite her, as well as the Dementors gliding about. Suddenly, a flash of blond had her gasping eagerly.

"Cissy!" she exclaimed

Narcissa removed the shawl covering most of her silvery blond hair and smiled timidly at her sister.

"Bellatrix. How are you?"

"I'm alright, I suppose. As good as I'll be, considering."

Narcissa nodded understandingly. She waited for a guard to undo the bindings on the cell door for Bellatrix to exit, under supervision of course. As this was happening, the chains holding Bellatrix tightened and reined her farther into the cell: a precaution for the two on the outside. She scowled when her back collided with the frigid rock wall.

Narcissa slowly followed her sister and their escort down the eerie, damp hallway to a meeting room. She jumped as the prisoners they passed leered and shouted at her. The guard finally ushered them into a stark white room with a small table and chairs set in the center. He casually leaned against the wall and the sisters eyed him coldly.

"What are you doing?" Bellatrix snapped.

"Keeping guard," he said simply.

"Can't you keep guard out _there_?" She pointed towards the door.

"I'm following orders, Mrs. Lestrange."

"I do not think you will be needed in here," Narcissa said icily. The guard faltered under the weight of the glares he was receiving before nodding.

"Don't get into any trouble," he said before leaving to stand outside the door.

Silence descended upon the pair. Bellatrix staggered toward her youngest sister, who hesitantly raised her arms. After an awkward second, the two embraced. Bellatrix felt the shoulder of her suit being drenched with Narcissa's tears.

"Now, now, don't you cry," Bella said uncertainly. She was never good with comforting people.

"I-I'm just s-so glad to s-see y-you!" Narcissa cried, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief embroidered with her initials.

"I'm happy to see you as well."

Once the tears subsided, Narcissa took a deep calming breath before continuing. "I apologize for not coming sooner. Our family was under intense scrutiny from the Ministry for our ties to anything Dark. The Aurors were itching to arrest Lucius for something but he had nothing against him. Mother and father were even questioned."

"You're kidding!" Bellatrix said incredulously, seating herself on one of the chairs.

"I kid you not," Narcissa responded gravely as she sat as well.

"Did they find anything?"

"Of course not. Our parents do not work for anyone, save themselves."

"I see. So how are old Lucy and Drakey, hmm?"

Narcissa cracked a smile. "They're doing well. Draco is getting so big! Oh, I wish you could see him. He'll be off to Hogwarts before we know it."

"Has the little bugger shown any sign of magic, yet?"

"Yes, he levitated a glass of sherry, nearly dropping it on Lucius's head one day when he was upset. Lucius wasn't very pleased but I found it rather amusing."

"It's a shame I missed that."

"A shame indeed."

The two fell into a silence filled with the tension the next question Bellatrix was sure to ask would bring. They forced casual talk for a while but soon, curiosity got the better of her.

"Narcissa, how is Artemis?"

Narcissa cleared her throat uncomfortably. She fidgeted with her shawl before finally answering. "She's doing well, I suppose."

"You suppose?" Bellatrix asked, raising her brows in suspicion.

"I…"

"What is it? What happened? Is she alright?"

"Bellatrix, I…I sent her to an orphanage."

"You _what_?" she asked, rising from her seat in outrage.

Narcissa instantly became defensive. "Bella, you must understand! She was a threat to my child and I did what I saw fit!"

"I trusted you," Bella spat. "I trusted you to care for my daughter and you dump her in some orphanage? How could you?"

"Bella, _please_. She nearly hurt my son. I could not stand for that!"

"Nearly, you say. So she never actually did anything? You send her off for what? A mere infraction? Something that never happened?"

"It's the fact that she would so easily do it that scares me!"

"I want you to find her."

"I…I don't think I can."

"You can't or won't?"

"I mean I can't!" Narcissa cried in exasperation. "I tried, I truly have! I returned to the place I left her because I felt guilty. But she was not there, Bella! After some scandal where she may or may not have been the cause of the death of one of the employees, someone took her into their home…"

"You mean to tell me my daughter could possibly be living with Mudblood scum right at this very moment? Or even worse, _Muggles_?" Rage was evident in Bellatrix's intimidating eyes.

"I'm so sorry Bella," Narcissa told her sister honestly.

"You disgust me," Bellatrix suddenly said, backing away from the other woman.

"Bella—"

"Guards!" Bellatrix cut her off. "Get her out of here!"

"Bella!"

"Now!"

Narcissa watched her sister, horrorstruck. Immense guilt consumed her. She deserved this, she knew she did. That did not mean it hurt any less. She shivered slightly as the Dementors wrapped their scabby hands around her forearms and guided her out of the room.

Bellatrix listened as the sound of her sister's expensive heels clicking against the stone floor disappeared. She was thrust back into her cell, her home until the Dark Lord came for her. Great dismay sunk into her weary bones. Combined with the despair from the Dementors, she was instantly thrown into a wave of depression. In a daze, she walked towards the iron bars and wrapped her long fingers around them, her long nails painted red grazing the rusted metal.

"Rodolphous?" she called into the darkness.

An answer came from the depths of one of the cells across from her. "Yes, my love?"

"Our baby's gone."

For a while, she heard nothing but the pitiful murmurs of the prisoners around her. Then, a pale face materialized before her eyes. Rodolphous mirrored her stance, his hands clinging to the bars for support with his face between them as he gazed out at his wife.

"I know, my love."

Sirius Black, a few cells away, had listened to the entire exchange curiously.

/

Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black, felt absolutely horrible.

Despite the fact that her eldest sister was in prison at this very moment, she still feared the woman's wrath. Narcissa had never been much of a troublemaker but she had performed an unspeakable act: she had handed someone's daughter off under the pretense that she was saving her family.

She chalked it up to stress. Around that time, there was so much going on that she felt as if she were on overload. Generally speaking, she was rather fond of Artemis. The child could be a handful at times but it was nothing a little punishment could not solve. Granted, she _did_ nearly burn Draco in a blaze she somehow sparked out of irritation. But she was a good girl. Whenever the two went out for tea at an acquaintance's house, she was an absolute doll. Everyone loved her. But then again, there was the time old Nettie's arm "mysteriously" broke and a boy had been found practically strangled in a tree. And yet, Artemis was one of the most well-mannered children she had ever seen. Though still, there was the possibility she had killed that orphanage worker.

Who was she kidding? The girl was a right terror.

But that was no excuse for Narcissa to have shirked responsibility by giving her up. She tried imagining what it would have been like had the situation been reversed. What if Bellatrix had given Draco to another family? The act would not be above her but it would still not be very nice. Narcissa could only imagine the pain her sister must be feeling. Yes, it is not like she would be in the child's life seeing as she will remain in prison for the rest of her life, but _knowing_ that her child is with people that are probably below her must be driving Bellatrix insane. (Whom was she kidding? Bellatrix cared for none but herself.)

And that is why Narcissa decided she would try to find the girl.

She started by going back to the orphanage she and Lucius brought Artemis to. Once she sought out a competent employee that seemed worthy enough to speak to her, she demanded to know the whereabouts of her niece. The man insisted he did not know and even if he did, he would not be able to tell her. Her hand twitched involuntarily as she fantasized about strangling him.

Then, she sent out a notice to someone she knew in the Ministry, asking (or begging) for their help in recovering the lost child. Together they worked in discovering the family that took Artemis in or finding any trace of her. But, much to Narcissa's dismay, their attempts proved futile.

"I've searched everywhere, Lucius," she told her husband tiredly one day years later after an extensive hunt for Artemis came up empty once again. "I've found no one with that name, which implies she goes under something else now. There's no one that matches her physical description, which means she's somehow changed that as well. The fact that majority of the Wizarding world doesn't even know the Lestranges had a child doesn't help much. I don't know what to do anymore."

"I don't know why you even bother," he responded in a bored tone, straightening the collar of his robes in the mirror. When he gave it up as a lost cause, Narcissa pushed his hands aside and smoothed the collar down.

"She's our niece, Lucius. We can't abandon her. It's not what Bellatrix wants."

"Why does it matter what she wants?" he demanded, turning to face her. "She and hr husband chose their fate and got themselves imprisoned. They will rot in Azkaban, unable to see their daughter so why does it matter where she is?"

Narcissa watched him incredulously. "How can you say that? She's our family!"

"She is no family of mine. Now I do not wish to speak of her again."

Narcissa bit back the angry retort lodged in the back of her throat.

"Mother?" Draco rounded the corner holding what appeared to be a picture frame. "I found this in one of the guest rooms." He handed it to her and she suppressed the onslaught of emotions it caused. She bit her lip as she watched the picture image of Artemis smile and wave at her.

"What of it?" she asked her son.

"It made me wonder: where _is_ Arty?"

Narcissa cried out in grief, turning away from her family and rushing out of the room. Draco watched her, confused.

"Have I said something?"

"That's enough, son," Lucius scolded. "Go back to your room now."

"But what have I done?" Draco asked. This seemed terribly unfair.

"Just go."

Gradually, Narcissa gave up the desperate search of her niece. It became obvious she would never see Artemis again and there was nothing she could do about it. She tried to keep a calm head, which was needed in the coming times. No one noticed anything was amiss with her, or that she still grieved over the loss of her sister and niece. That was exactly how she liked it.

The time came for Draco to go off to Hogwarts. He was extremely eager, talking nonstop about all of the things he was going to do when there. Lucius wanted nothing more than for him to quit speaking but Narcissa found her son's babbling endearing. She loved this childish nature of his; it was something she never saw much, especially when her husband was around. Lucius did not approve of it.

Finally, the Malfoys arrived at King's Cross Station. Narcissa noticed the way Draco was bouncing on his heels ever so slightly, as if he were a race horse ready to fly at the spark of a wand. When the Crabbe and Goyle family came into sight, she urged him forward to go be with his friends. He smiled gratefully at her before sauntering over, his nose in the air haughtily much like his father. She sighed. She was not sure she wanted to see her son become like her husband.

She was about to turn to leave the platform when she saw something that made her do a double take. There was something about that person there that seemed all too familiar. Suddenly, realization hit her like a herd of hippogriffs. She looked nothing like she remembered but Narcissa would recognize her anywhere.

"Lucius," she whispered excitedly, grabbing the man's arm. "I think I found Artemis!"

The Malfoys both gazed at the girl across the platform who was chatting animatedly to someone. As if she knew she was being watched, she met their stare with a cool one of her own. She smirked viciously, her face transforming into something nearly frightening. That was when they knew for sure.

Artemis was back.


	3. Warnings

Chapter 3: Warnings

William Featherby was a trustworthy man. But, given the situation, he would have to put the trust a certain family had in him at risk.

He bustles across the darkened grounds, his pace rather speedy for a man his size. Beads of perspiration dot his brow as his rotund stomach bobs up and down awkwardly from his frazzled movements. A slightly chilled wind rustles the leaves and his bushy walrus mustache. Apart from that momentary relief, the whole experience was not a very enjoyable one. He was almost positive this was not in his job description.

Growing up, he had lived in a strict pureblooded family that wanted nothing but the best for their children. His father, the second William Featherby, was a man of morals that would make the most innocent person squirm. He heartily believed in pureblood supremacy, therefore agreeing with everything He Who Must Not Be Named stood for. His mother, Victoria, was also the same. There was a part of him that believed she honestly did not care about the blood that ran through a person's veins, that it was all a ploy to keep her husband happy. She would never admit it, though, if it were even true.

William was placed in Slytherin house during his Hogwarts days, much to the delight of his parents. He was told he must follow in the footsteps of his eldest sister Marie. The path she made, he soon discovered, was one that took her into the elite circle of high-class families who most likely had kin that were Death Eaters. Marie was closely acquainted to a girl by the name of Bellatrix, though the latter did not seem to care too much for her. Marie became obsessed with the older girl, wanting to be just like her. The fascination grew to such an extent she traded her blond locks for an ebony color that did not suit her at all. William watched as his sister slowly descended into mania, signing up to become a Death Eater fresh out of school. William would not let himself be pulled into the same thing. He did not believe in it.

Upon his graduation, he was left with an important decision: follow the lifestyle of his (deranged) sister or create a new path? He considered both options—joining the purebloods in their plot to rid the world of Muggle-borns and half bloods did not seem very enticing but what else was there for him to do? The idea hit him like a lightning strike. His parents always told him that if he did not stand for something, he would most likely fall for anything. So why not stand against what his family was for? He would aid his fellow wizards in the task of ridding the world of the insufferable supremacists. After his leave of Hogwarts, he took up work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, initially training to become a Hit Wizard.

He was swiftly disowned from his family.

After a year or two, he realized becoming a Hit Wizard was just not within his metaphorical reach. So after much consideration, he took up a post within the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. He could assist in fighting bad wizards that way. He quickly worked his way up the ladder, eventually heading the division. His family looked down upon him as if he were scum. Victoria cried herself to sleep many a night over the loss of her son. Her husband wrote him out of his will. Marie continued acting like someone she was not but when she finally realized Bellatrix did not like her, she tried to jump off of a bridge but her suicide attempt failed. Now she resides in St. Mungo's, seemingly oblivious to her brother's life.

Throughout his school years, William bonded with the sister of the girl his own sibling fawned over. She was a small thing with bright blond hair that did not seem to fit in with her family. Going by the name Narcissa, she would cling to William for support through her tumultuous first year and the transition from life at home to life at school. He acted as the brother she had never had, and to this very day she admired him for that. With that being said, it was no wonder she came to him for help years after he had last seen her.

He had been working in his office, going over a new case that was proving quite difficult. He toyed with the end of his mustache, silently mulling over the words written across the parchment in a spidery scrawl. A knock sounded on his door.

"Come in," he had called. He was unaware that he was expecting visitors.

A tall and slender woman entered, eyeing him warily from her position by the door. He was not sure he recognized her but he welcomed her in nonetheless.

"I was not sure who to come to," she began once she was seated. "But I remember all you did for me and how you told me that you would be there for me no matter what."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not following. The woman smiled thinly and removed the hood of her robes. William gasped.

"Narcissa Black?" he asked incredulously.

"It is actually Narcissa Malfoy now but yes, that is me."

He leaned back in his chair, a low whistle emitting from his pursed lips. "Well this is certainly interesting. I've not seen you for years, my dear!"

"I know, and it is certainly a shame. You were always a wonderful friend. People such as yourself are hard to come by." She smiled again, this time a bit warmer. Silence persisted between the two, William watching as something flickered in her blue eyes. Suddenly, Narcissa burst into tears.

"Oh, my," he said helplessly, jumping slightly from the force of her emotions.

"I-I'm a horrible person, Will," she wailed. "She'll never forgive me!"

"Darling Narcissa, please do not cry." He sat himself in the seat beside her, hugging her comfortingly. "Now do you think you can tell me what the problem seems to be?"

She sniffled pathetically, instantly aware of how ridiculous she looked. She mentally shook it off and sighed. "I…I need your help finding someone. She's gone missing and I really must know where she is."

"Okay then," he said with a reassuring grin. "I believe I can do that for you."

She nodded thankfully. "Are you sure, though? I don't want to burden you with anything. I know how busy your department is now."

"It won't be a problem. Just tell me who we're looking for and we'll begin."

Her mouth opened a fraction as if she was going to speak but it snapped shut before she said anything. She was not sure how much she should really say. "Her name is Artemis."

William stood and crossed the room, flicking his wand at a quill that immediately began writing on a spare piece of parchment. "Artemis what?"

"I-I can't say."

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "You what?"

"I can't say."

"Do you not know?"

"I…" She paused, thinking for a moment. "No, I don't know. But I know what she looks like. Does that help?"

He nodded slowly. "I suppose that could work. Describe her appearance for me, will you?"

Narcissa began rattling off the physical description of the missing person. William jabbed his wand at a piece of charcoal that started sketching a face. He rummaged through a filing cabinet in the corner of his office, attempting to find something on the person Narcissa was looking for. Something did not sit right with him. She seemed oddly hesitant when he asked for the last name. He was certain she _did_ know. But why would she not tell him? Was there something wrong with this person? Was she dangerous? Was she on the run from something? His suspicions were doubled when Narcissa quickly added before leaving,

"Will, you can't tell anyone of this."

He yearned for answers, answers he knew he would never get. So he did not press her any further, choosing to simply nod and return to his work. Helping his old friend had probably not been a very wise decision.

Over the next few years, the two were hard at work to find this girl supposedly called Artemis. William began doubting the validity of this person when every trail they found ended with nothing valuable, thrusting them back to the beginning of their vain search. As the days went on, Narcissa grew more frantic and William more irritated. There was no one with the name that fit the description and vice versa. Artemis was either a myth or she did not want to be found. Thankfully, the blond woman saw that nothing would become of their efforts and gave up.

"I apologize, William," she told him one night. He had been sitting at home, finishing up dinner himself as his wife was out of town. A knock on the door startled him almost as much as the sound the glass he had dropped made as it hit the floor. Cursing after he repaired the cup, he answered the door to find Narcissa standing there, alone and dejected, on his front porch.

"There is no need for that," he admonished. The pair was sitting on his sofa drinking firewhiskey.

"No, there is. I brought you on some wild goose chase when you already had enough on your plate."

"I was helping a friend, Narcissa. I would do it any time. And anyway, I'm sure you have just as much on your plate."

She smiled and inched ever closer to him. "You were always such an amazing friend. I liked you so very much for that." Slowly, she leaned towards him, gently placing her lips against his. William was shocked, to say the least. He admitted to himself that he _had_ liked her as more than a friend but that was when he was a child. Now, he was grown with a wife and child of his own. But he loved Narcissa Black. Not Narcissa Malfoy.

And that was why he pushed her away.

"I-I'm so sorry," she said, standing hastily. "I must be going." She nearly ran outside to the Apparition point. William was flabbergasted.

It was some time later when he gathered the nerve to see Narcissa again. He was unsure of a good enough reason to do so, however. Finally, he settled on venturing to Malfoy Manor to congratulate them on their son going off to Hogwarts. It was pathetic, he knew, but he felt the urge to see his old friend again. He took a deep breath before rapping smartly against the door with the cool brass knocker. A little elf answered.

"What is sir here for?" the elf asked.

"Er, I've come to visit the Malfoys," he said uncertainly. He was almost sure the elf rolled its eyes.

"Right this way, kind sir."

He was ushered into a brightly lit foyer lined with portraits of past Malfoys who eyed him with content. The elf pointed him to a doorway off the stairs that he assumed was a sitting room. He stood uncertainly outside of it, voices from the inside floating out to him.

"…sure it was her! She's safe, she's at Hogwarts!" He heard Narcissa exclaim.

"Why do you _care_?" Lucius responded exasperatedly.

"Because Artemis is our niece and Bellatrix will most likely forgive me when she finds out I've found her daughter!"

The door took that moment to creak open even more. Both Malfoys turned cold stares on the intruder, though Narcissa's became much friendlier.

"Good day, Featherby," Lucius greeted blandly. "To what do we owe this pleasant surprise?"

"I-I wanted to congratulate you on your son going off to Hogwarts," William answered lamely.

Lucius scoffed. "Did you create that excuse before or after you eavesdropped on our conversation?"

"Be nice, Lucius," Narcissa snapped. She smiled at Will and gestured for him to sit opposite them. "Would you care for a cup of tea?"

The three talked about a whole manner of things, though none of it really captured Will's attention. As Lucius and Narcissa conversed about where they saw Draco in a few years' time, his mind wandered to what he overheard the couple speaking out before. Apparently, they had found the girl, Artemis, on their own. If he had heard correctly, she was the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange. And at Hogwarts.

This could not be good.

He jumped slightly when Narcissa called him.

"I've been meaning to ask you, how's Marie?"

He wanted to laugh out right at the question. Marie? How the hell was he supposed to know? She was withering away in a ward at St. Mungo's. Was he supposed to care? She did not care for him. She made that very clear years ago when he went to visit her after their parents' deaths. But somehow, every thing always went back to Marie Featherby. For as long as he could remember, conversation always veered to his sister. She was somehow connected to anything and everything. Then something occurred to him.

Marie would know if this girl truly existed.

After about an hour, he excused himself and made a hasty exit. Once he was past the gate of the extensive home, he Disapparated with a loud crack. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in front of an old Muggle shop that had clearly not been in use for quite some time. In actuality, it _was_ being used, just not by Muggles. After speaking to one of the mannequins, he found himself in the best Wizarding hospital in all of England. A nurse recognized him right away and escorted him to where he needed to go.

"We haven't seen you here in a while," she said casually as they walked the halls. "Are you still cross with her?"

William sighed. "I know I should put my grudges aside but she infuriates me so."

The woman nodded. "I understand. But she really needs someone there for her, you know?" She held open a door and William passed through, thanking her quietly.

"Marie?" he called into the empty room tentatively.

A woman who was far too thin appeared from behind a tattered curtain. Her wild eyes were a dark blue, her long hair a haphazard mix of her natural blond and Bellatrix's ebony. She sneered at the new occupant and collapsed onto the bed.

"Ah, my dear brother," she whispered to herself. "How I despise him so."

"Marie, I brought you some flowers." He offered the bouquet to her. She watched his every movement, her eyes wide. She grasped the flowers in her hand, sniffed them, and suddenly bit off the tops of every flower, spitting them at William.

"I hate flowers," she snapped. "And I hate you! Why are you here?"

He winced but otherwise showed no emotion. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh, so you only come when you need something, hmm? How classic of you."

"Please, just answer me one thing."

"I'm waiting."

He leaned forward in his seat, watching his sister carefully. "What do you know of a girl by the name of Artemis Lestrange?"

Marie instantly perked up, her eyes alive with excitement. "Artemis? Oh, she's a doll. She takes after her mother, you know."

"Her mother is Bellatrix?"

"Of course. Only Bellatrix could make something so lovely." She sighed longingly, her face morphing into something dreamlike. Then she scowled. "It's truly horrible that she had to make the child with that scum Rodolphous."

"But you said she takes after her mother. Does that mean she's…?"

"Dangerous? Psychotically seductive? Charming yet viscously cruel? All of the above? Yes. I wish I could meet her." She gnawed her bottom lip, deep in thought. She leaned across her bed and presented a torn photograph. "That time the Healers let me go thinking I was okay, I swiped this from the Malfoys' home. They gave her away, you know. After Bella was imprisoned. Truly horrible. I would have cared for her as if she were my own."

William studied the portrait, noticing how this girl looked a lot like the sketch he had from when he and Narcissa were searching for someone. This had to be Artemis. Suddenly, he was thrown to the floor and was slapped repeatedly.

"What do you want from me?" Marie roared from her position on top of him. He restrained her arms but she still managed to bite him. He yowled in pain.

"Nurse! Nurse, please come help!"

A Healer rushed into the room and grabbed Marie, strapping her to her bed. She kicked and screamed, all the while glaring hatefully at her brother.

"You all are out to kill me! I know you are! The voices told me! Stay away from me!"

"Perhaps you should leave now, Mr. Featherby," the Healer suggested. William nodded and staggered to his feet. Before he left, though, Marie screamed to him,

"They better watch out! When Artemis makes known exactly who she is, no one will be safe!"

It was because of that he was where he was now.

After what seemed like hours, William finally made it to the gates of Hogwarts. Argus Filch, a cruel looking man, scowled before allowing him to enter. William gavehim a throaty "thank you" before continuing his march up to the castle. His heart was hammering in his chest and his sweaty robes stuck to him uncomfortably. Finally, he was inside the school. He quickly rounded a corner and ran straight into someone.

"I am so sorry!" he nearly shouted. He helped the person up. Shocked, he realized it is Minerva McGonagall.

"William Featherby?" she asks in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello Minerva. I have something important to tell Albus."

She assesses the man before her, taking in his chaotic appearance. Judging that, she assumed whatever he was here for was indeed rather serious. With a curt nod, she gestures for him to follow her. The two walk the halls at a brisk pace that had William struggling for breath.

They end up in front of a gargoyle statue. Minerva says, "Lemon drops" and the statue opens to reveal a spiral staircase. The magic of Hogwarts never ceased to amaze him. Once at the top of the stairs, Minerva knocked on the wooden door. After a moment, she opens it.

"Minerva! What can I do for you?" Albus Dumbledore greets pleasantly. He is seated behind his desk reading a new history book written by Bathilda Bagshot. His twinkling blue eyes find William and he smiles. "Please, sit."

Doing as told, for no one disobeyed Albus Dumbledore, Will sits opposite the man and beside McGonagall. "I apologize for intruding, sir," he begins. "My name is William Featherby."

Dumbledore nodded. "Ah, I remember you. You were friends with Narcissa Malfoy, were you not?"

"Yes sir."

"Would you two care for a lemon drop?" he offers suddenly, pulling apart two sticky candies.

Minerva sighs. "Honestly, Albus, you and your fascination with Muggle sweets astounds me."

Albus chuckled but makes no response. "So I take it you did not stop by to simply reminisce about the castle, am I right?"

William nods. "Sir, something has been brought to my attention I feel you should be aware of."

"Do share."

"What do you know of the Lestrange child?"

"The Lestrange child?" Minerva repeats. "Are you referring to Bellatrix and Rodolphous? I was not aware they had a child."

"Yes, it is a myth that has been circulating around certain people," Dumbledore agrees. "I know nothing but rumors. Are there facts to this story?"

"There are enough facts that tell me it is not simply a story," William admits. "A while ago, Narcissa Malfoy came to me seeking help in finding someone. She would tell me nothing other than we were searching for someone named Artemis, as well as what she looked like. I thought nothing of it because we never found anything. Recently, however, I was visiting Malfoy Manor and I…overheard something that startled me. Narcissa seems to believe she has found Artemis and this child is the Lestrange girl."

Albus and Minerva ponder this silently. Finally, Minerva asks, "Why do we need to know this?"

William fidgets with his wristwatch. "Narcissa found the girl boarding the Hogwarts Express. Also, I visited my sister Marie today—"

"How is she?"

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Still delusional. But she told me the girl takes after her mother."

"So then that means…"

"That she may be just as sadistic as Bellatrix," Albus continued, finally seeing the problem.

Minerva puts a hand over her mouth. "Oh, dear. Albus, do you believe the students are in danger?"

"It is a possibility."

"But we have no student named Artemis here!"

"She changed her name," William replied. "Apparently the Malfoys sent her to some sort of orphanage or something and when she was taken in, she changed her name and her appearance."

"So how did Narcissa know it was her?"

"You would be able to recognize me if I shaved my beard and made my hair a pleasant lime green, would you not?" Albus asks.

"I suppose you are right," Minerva decides. "But what are we to do?"

"We must tell Severus. Artemis has done nothing yet but we will have to be on guard." He stands and offers his hand to William. "Thank you for telling us, Mr. Featherby."

William shakes Albus's hand. "It was not a problem." With that, he takes his leave, hoping he had done the right thing.

...

Draco Malfoy wandered the dimly lit hallways of Hogwarts alone. That seemed to be something quite difficult to attain, being alone. He was always surrounded by people, whether he liked it or not. Sometimes he did. People look up to him, even if he is just a first year. He comes from a family of extreme wealth and prestige. There was a certain reputation he needed to maintain and if that meant being annoyed by goons such as Crabbe and Goyle or even that obnoxious Pansy Parkinson, so be it. At least he was making something of himself.

Finally being able to go to Hogwarts had excited him to no end. The idea that he was leaving home was a wonderful one. He loved his mother, he truly did. But he did not like the pressure his father always put on him. He prayed to Merlin he would never end up like that (though he knew he was going to). If he wanted all of that glory, it would have to happen.

So far, Hogwarts was everything he wanted and then some. It was simply perfect. He got to make fun of a Weasley and a Mudblood, he had already attracted fans, and so far, he was excelling in all of his classes. The only downside was the snub from that insolent Potter and how he could never be alone when he wanted to. That is why he was venturing the castle at night, with fifteen minutes until curfew. The place was so large that it gave him enough time by himself as well as a better idea of where he was going. He smiled to himself. It was a win-win situation.

He finds himself in the dungeons once more. He wasn't aware of where his feet carried him. The door before him leads to Professor Snape's office. He was about to turn back when he caught wind of the conversation happening on the other side of the door.

"Are you sure we can trust this Featherby character?" Snape's drawling voice asks. Featherby—that name sounded familiar to Draco.

"I assure you he was being very honest, Severus," Dumbledore answers. Draco scowled. He never liked that man.

"So what you're saying is the Lestranges have a child and she is hiding somewhere within Hogwarts?" Disbelief was evident in his tone.

"That is what we're saying," McGonagall replies, clearly irritated. "Severus, he overheard the Malfoys talking about finding the girl on the platform. If you don't believe us, this was a waste of our time and I will gladly return to my quarters and—"

"Minerva, please," Dumbledore cuts her off.

Snape sighs. "I can see you are telling the truth but I find it hard to believe two people had a child and no one knew and now, the girl somehow changed herself and is hiding here. How is that possible?"

"She takes after her mother," McGonagall says stiffly.

"So why did you tell me?"

"I want you to keep an eye out for anything suspicious," Dumbledore says. "Also—"

He stops speaking, for reasons Draco cannot tell. Suddenly, the door opens to reveal Snape frowning at him.

"Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing out of bed?"

"I wanted to ask you something about today's assignment, Professor," Draco lies smoothly.

"It can wait until the morning. Ten points from Slytherin for being out of bed past curfew. Now return to your dormitory, please."

Draco nods and walks back the way he had come. He stops, instantly alert. The sound of footsteps hit his ears.

"Who's there?" he calls out, wand at the ready, though he probably could not have done anything to save himself if there was danger. Someone chuckles. He stiffens.

"Relax, little firstie," a girl says as she appears in his line of sight. He immediately recognized her as one of the girls that was always with the Weasley twins. "What're you gonna do with that?" she asks, indicating his wand. "Throw it at me? Light it up? There's not much you can do."

He ignores her jabs and lowers his wand, eyes narrowed. "What're you doing down here?"

She crosses her arms and smirks. "I could ask you the same thing."

"My common room happens to be down here," he replied hotly. "Not the Gryffindor room!"

"Over there," she thrusts her thumb in the opposite direction. "Not by the Potions classroom. And if you must know, I needed to ask Professor Snape something. Not that this little conversation wasn't fun and all, but I really must be going." She goes to move past him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he couldn't stop himself from saying.

She rounded on him. "Oh, are you threatening me now?"

"No!" he shouts. "I just mean you shouldn't go there. He's talking about something important with Dumbledore and McGonagall."

She nods slowly and walks back towards him. "What're they talking about?" When he doesn't respond, she adds, "You don't have to tell me."

"There's someone in the castle," he says in a quiet voice. "Someone who might be dangerous."

Her eyes widen. "Really? Who?"

"A girl that's been lost for a while." He kicks at a spot on the stone floor. "She's my cousin. I haven't seen her in ages."

"Your cousin? You mean that girl with the pink hair?"

Draco scowls. "No, not her. We don't talk about her very much. My aunt Bellatrix's daughter." He has no idea why he was telling her any of this but it felt right.

The girl blinks. "Oh," was all she said.

"I've better get back to my common room," Draco says, turning without looking back. The girl stands staring at the vacant place before her, a frown forming on her face.

Draco was not aware that he had just spoken with the girl the professors were discussing.

...

Another year at Hogwarts had come and gone. Students excitedly met their families on Platform 9 ¾, embracing one another while eagerly telling of the past few months' adventures. First years were ecstatic that they had survived while seventh years were sullen that they would not go back, unless they became teachers. But still, the energy level on the platform was sky high.

Narcissa Malfoy scanned the dense crowd, searching for her son. She had missed him dearly and is glad to have him back. At home, she already had his favorite meal and several newly purchased things waiting for his arrival. Living with only Lucius for company was nerve racking; Draco's return would hopefully appease her broken spirits. As she meandered about the platform, she bumped into someone.

"I'm sorry," she began to say before the person roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a pillar. "What is the meaning of this?" she demands, snatching her arm away.

"What do you think you're getting at?" the person spat, glaring at her with nothing but hate.

Narcissa gasped. "Artemis?" The girl says nothing, only looked at her aunt who reached for her.

"Don't touch me," Artemis says in a venomous tone. Narcissa lets her arm fall back against her side. "Back to what I'm here for: What do you think you're getting at? You go on some idiotic search for me and open your big mouth, telling someone about it. I like to keep a low profile but I can't anymore. Now the whole bloody school knows I'm there and they're all on guard. What is your problem?"

Narcissa's heart speeds up. William had _told_ someone, Dumbledore of all people! She feels their friendship and whatever else she felt for him shattering around her.

"Answer me!"

"If you like to keep low, why does it bother you?" Narcissa challengs.

Artemis looks at her as if she were an imbecile. "Well I'm obviously not going to play the perfect little girl the entire time now, am I?"

"What are you waiting for, then?"

She grins wickedly. "_Him_ of course. The day he returns. I know he'll get mother and father out of Azkaban. When that day comes, I can show the world who I really am and finally aid in getting rid of those lowly Mudbloods and Muggles. But now people will be expecting trouble, so you've taken the element of surprise away from me. I don't like when things don't go my way, Aunt Narcissa. You remember that, don't you?"

Narcissa nods numbly. "But you wouldn't dare harm your cousin, would you?"

She screws her face up as she thinks about that. "No," she says finally. "Killing him would be far too easy. I like the slow and laborious torture. It's far more fun. So I won't touch a hair on his ickle little head. But I will screw with it a bit." She grins sweetly before skipping away. As she passes her cousin, she bats her long eyelashes and says, "Hi Draco." The boy looked stunned but he covered it with a scowl. Artemis threw a smirk in Narcissa's direction and disappeared in the crowd.

"Mother!" Draco exclaims as he nears Narcissa.

She pulls him in for a hug. "Oh, I've missed you, darling. I don't want you to speak to that girl, do you hear me?"

He nods. "She's a Gryffindor anyway. I wouldn't stoop that low."

She stiffens. Artemis is a Gryffindor? What was that girl up to?


	4. Extraordinary

_Eh, not so sure about this. Tell me what you think?_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 4: Extraordinary<span>

Artemis Lestrange was by no means an ordinary girl.

No, she was far too unique to be considered anything "ordinary". What a mediocre word _that_ was. A scowl would be permanently etched on her delicate features if anyone dare try to lump her with the "normals". She was much better than that.

For one thing, she was highly intelligent. With her advanced memory, she could recall the mounds of praise her private tutor would give her. She could solve complex algorithms as well as explain the correct way to brew a high level potion and recite the moral theme behind a book far too advance, all at the age of five. Now that she was a Hogwarts student, she, or rather her made up persona, was known as a prodigy among the professors. Not even Severus Snape had anything bad to say. She was capable of performing spells and brewing potions no one her age should be able to do. This was particularly the case where her favorite Dark spells were concerned, though she wasn't foolish enough to flaunt those skills.

Of course there were also the astounding good looks her Black blood graced her with. She liked to believe these features were attributed to her maternal side as the Lestranges weren't necessarily as prominent in the good-looking physical appearances. Her father could be considered attractive but it was her mother who was the absolute _gorgeous_ one of the two, in that slightly dark and mad way. Thankfully, Artemis and Bellatrix were nearly identical. The young woman was bestowed with the lithe frame and the catlike grace; the mass of inky black curls; the smooth porcelain skin; the cold, calculating eyes colored with liquid steel. And from Rodolphous she gained the fragile high cheekbones and the gentle aristocratic slope of the forehead. She was rather well put together.

She was quite aware of the heads she turned as she sauntered through the halls of Hogwarts. She enjoyed it; she _thrived _off of the attention. Boys practically threw themselves at her feet and girls were green with envy (as they all should be). But she was hardly her true self at these times. Still, she appreciated the attention nonetheless. So for the time being she would lavish in it, stealing a snog in an empty classroom or some petty gift a boy felt it necessary to give her. They wanted her, _craved_ her surprisingly gentle touch and the subtle feeling of her lips against theirs. But she wanted nothing to do with them. It was all a bit of fun, except for her pursuing of a certain someone that would serve as a vendetta against her obnoxiously "perfect" relatives.

Perhaps the most unique trait of Artemis, though, was her cunning. She was capable of slinking through the shadows without being noticed. She could lie so convincingly no one ever questioned her. Her capacity to think only for herself and preserve her dignity (and her life, depending on the circumstances) was quite large. She could manipulate others to do her bidding. Simply flashing a bright smile or batting her long lashes got her rather far in life. Hell, she was even able to convince the Sorting Hat to place her in Gryffindor, despite her obvious snakelike tendencies. She was a Slytherin through and through.

It was with this guile that she found herself journeying to St. Mungo's undetected.

She had not bothered with the tedious Glamour charms that had become second nature to her. There was no need to hide her identity, though she did don a shawl for slight protection. It was not that she was ashamed of who she was— quite the opposite, actually. But the daughter of the Lestranges would seem to be a clear threat to society. With Bellatrix and Rodolphous's history, there was a sure guarantee that she would grow to be just like them.

She had kept a relatively low profile, choosing to do things that could not be traced back to her. Her first year at Hogwarts, she crafted a makeshift bow and arrow and used it to slay one of the student's owls. It was assumed some animal in the Forest had done it. Her third year, she lured a younger student into an empty classroom where a boggart was hiding. The boy was faced with the image of a troll. So frightened, he tripped over one of the desks in his haste to leave and as a result, fractured his leg. Artemis had laughed jovially the entire time. She had big plans for last year. She knew a Cerberus was being kept on the third floor, which was why it was forbidden. A foolish firstie could have easily been duped into travelling up there and meeting death. Smiling cruelly, she deeply resented whoever discovered that she was attending Hogwarts and told the crazy old cook about her existence. Dumbledore was cleverer than she thought, however, as he seemed alarmed by the prospect of the Lestrange child being in such close proximity to his precious students, particularly one Harry Potter. She grimaced. Potter was the root of all of her problems, as were the Longbottoms. If it weren't for them, she'd be living in her own home with her parents while being a conniving little Slytherin.

But the world is never a just place. For the time being, she would remain going about as she had been doing for the past few years. The urge to hide her identity still baffled her occasionally but she knew that in the end, it was the better idea. She had been doing a good job at it. The past year she had done nothing terribly wrong. There was no cause for panic. Not yet, at least. The risk of being confronted for who she was would not be one she was willing to take. Eventually, yes, but not this moment.

Seamlessly gliding through the storefront hiding the hospital, she approached the help desk with a crafted smile. The witch seated there gave her a startled glance filled with slight recognition and then confusion before beckoning a nurse over to escort the strange girl.

"She doesn't receive many visitors," the young nurse said conversationally. "Are you of any relation?"

"Family friend," Artemis answered coolly. The woman nodded and said no more as they walked.

Farther down the hall, Artemis laid eyes on a young boy exiting a room with who was presumably his grandmother. A female shuffled out after them. Artemis cocked her head to the side as she watched the woman deposit a candy wrapper in the boy's hand. A wicked gleam filled her eyes. She knew _exactly_ who they were. The woman locked eyes with the grinning girl and upon seeing her, yelped in fear before running back into her room.

"How strange," the nurse muttered.

"Who was that?" Artemis asked innocently.

"Alice Longbottom," was the absentminded response. "I've never seen her look so…afraid."

It was obvious the fear came from _poor_ Alice spotting a girl who looked exactly like the woman she owed her lack of sanity to.

The pair came to a halt before a plain door spotted with chipped paint. The nurse ushered Artemis in and sealed the door behind her. An ominous air filled her as she heard the clinking of magical binds reuniting.

"Who are you?" a voice called from the corner shrouded in eerie darkness. Artemis rolled her eyes ands stepped forward into the bleak artificial light. A muffled gasp was followed by the appearance of a frazzled looking woman.

"Bellatrix?"

"Close, but no," Artemis responded in a bored tone, seating herself on the stiff hospital cot. "Would you care to sit, Marie?"

Marie Featherby nodded tersely. She was conflicted with her desire to sit as close to the young woman as humanly possible and the bizarre instinct urging her to be as far away as feasible. She settled on the plush chair by the bed.

"Who are you?" she demanded again, threading her long fingers in her tangled hair.

"My name is Artemis."

Marie's eyes grew wide. "The daughter of the Lestranges?" she stuttered.

Artemis grinned, and it was not truly kind. "Yes, that is who I am. I take it you are familiar with my parents?"

Marie nodded fervently. "Of course! Your mother and I were the greatest of friends." A dreamy smile filled her thin lips.

Artemis frowned but said nothing of the obvious lie. She had heard tales of a woman who became smitten with Bellatrix, so much so to the point of obsession. Though she was younger by several years, the woman nearly clung to Bellatrix as if her life depended on it. She even attempted to _look_ and _act_ as her. Her mother was initially flattered but quickly began to hate her little fan. Putting two and two together, Artemis figured the admirer was Marie. She found the whole thing to be quite pathetic but there was a possibility the little psycho could aid her.

"I heard what they did to the Longbottoms," Marie continued. "That was bloody brilliant! I never liked Rodolphous much but I've gained a bit of respect for him. The Longbottoms were a disgrace to society; what happened to them is probably worse than death, isn't it? That's why it is so perfect. It's truly a shame they were caught. They could have gone on to do so much more…" She mumbled something that sounded like "chosen me instead". Artemis smirked. Pathetic indeed.

"Bella was brilliant," Marie rambled on. "Brilliant, charming, cunning, and attractive. I truly loved her and longed to be just like her. I wanted nothing more than to get her attention. I even tried branding myself." She pulled back her sleeve to reveal the gruesome remnants of a scar where she carved a makeshift Dark Mark into her arm. "It didn't work, of course. I suppose I wasn't worthy enough to have her…Are you going to get branded?" she asked suddenly.

"Not without her," Artemis answered quietly.

"So you believe the Dark Lord still lives, do you not?"

She sneered. "There's no way an ignorant little baby with tainted blood could destroy someone so powerful."

Marie mimicked her expression and stance. "I agree. Do you think you could get your mother out?"

"I can try, can't I?"

"_He_ can get her out. If you find him, you should be okay."

Artemis stared at the woman, suddenly wondering why she was confined to the hospital. She seemed normal, close to Artemis' twisted sense of "normal" anyway. Her advice actually had a bit of merit. She thought she was a bit obsessive but tolerable.

That is until Marie launched herself at the startled girl and, with hands wrapped firmly in those unruly curls, kissed Artemis.

She collapsed on the floor with a flash of red light.

"Don't you dare touch me, you filthy invalid!" Artemis commanded in a deadly voice.

Marie scrambled to cower in the corner. Her face morphed into a feral grin. "You're so much like her," she whispered as Artemis wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same."

"They say I'm crazy. Are you?"

"There walks a thin line between sanity and insanity."

Marie hummed her agreement. "You want something."

"Do you have something worth taking?"

"Possibly."

She surveyed the girl with eyes that seemed much more intelligent than before. When she said nothing else, Artemis gave an irritated huff and collapsed onto the cot again.

"Well?" she prompted.

"Hmm?"

With narrowed eyes she asked, "Do you or do you not have anything that will prove beneficial to me?"

"It was my brother."

Artemis hung her head in her hands in exasperation. "Pardon?"

"It was my brother," she repeated. "He was the one that told them you were at Hogwarts."

Rage filled the blue veins crisscrossing like sharp spider webs across the expanse of her alabaster skin. So this was the fool who sold her out. She recalled his name being William. He was an old friend of her aunt. But how could he possibly know about her? First, though, something did not sit right with her. "How'd you know about that?"

"I know a lot of things."

Artemis did not press for an answer. "How did your brother know about me?"

"He came asking about you. Your aunt was searching for you and enlisted his help. He was not aware you were a Lestrange, though. When I confirmed that I suppose he panicked and ran to Dumbledore. I never liked my brother. He's an insolent blood traitor."

Something would have to be done about this man. Did he honestly think he could get away with revealing her to _Dumbledore_ of all people? He robbed her of the element of surprise she had on her side when she did decide to drop the Gryffindor act! William Featherby would most certainly pay.

Marie thrusting an old book in her hands brought her from her inner musings.

"I took this from Malfoy Manor," she explained. "I can _feel_ the connection to _him_." Her voice was nothing more than an excited rasp now and her eyes danced with dark hunger.

Artemis raised an eyebrow and thumbed through the book. "An empty diary. How lovely."

Marie turned it over and jabbed a finger at the golden name stitched on the back. "There."

"Tom M. Riddle?"

That gleam was back in Marie's eyes. "Yes, that's him."

Artemis smiled, seeing the potential this held. This diary was something she remembered grabbing at once when she was younger. Her uncle snatched it from her tiny hands and stowed it away in his study, a look of pure disdain on his face. When she questioned him on what it was, he would not say. But she heard him mention it belonging to the Dark Lord and he was to look after it. Could this be some sort of cursed artifact? The amount of fun she could have with it was endless.

"Thank you, Marie," Artemis said with a smile as she tucked the diary into a pocket of her robes and stood. "You've proved rather…helpful."

Marie beamed with pride. "Now that I've helped you, you can help me."

"How so?"

"Get me out of here."

Feigning pensive thought, Artemis claimed she could do just that and said farewell, a smirk painted on her face. Before she left the hospital, she made a point to visit the room where the wands of all of the unstable patients were kept.

Marie was thrilled she would finally be free.

...

Molly Weasley tutted to herself as she overlooked a new copy of the _Daily Prophet_. Brows furrowed, she absentmindedly jabbed her wand in the direction of a pot filled with warm oatmeal on the stove. So enamored in the reading of the news, she hardly paid attention to the pot as it clumsily floated through the air and overturned on the floor.

"Oh, bother," she exclaimed exasperatedly.

As if on cue, a stampede of feet came bounding down the stairs into her now filthy kitchen after hearing the metal hit the stone floor.

"No running in the house!" she warned, but her caution was met with deaf ears. Two redheaded boys identical to the last freckle rounded the corner into the kitchen and slipped in the mess. They glanced at one another in horror, wiping the slime from their eyes just in time for a younger redhead to come careening into them. All three were drenched in the thick goo.

"Mum, I thought we talked about this?" began one twin.

"The food goes in the _pot_, not on the floor," the other finished.

A girl with flaming red hair much like her brothers calmly walked in and sat at the table with a giggle, followed by a raven-haired boy who smirked.

Molly stifled a sigh. "Yes, well, seeing as you never listen to a word I say, why shall I listen to you?"

The twins shared a look before saying simultaneously, "Because we're brilliant."

Casting a quick Scourgify at the floor, she shot a glare at her three sons and ordered them to go clean up immediately or else they would be deprived of food. This sparked an instant reaction and in no less than five minutes, the entire family was seated at the table for breakfast, the boys stuffing food down their throats as if it would disappear before they got their fill.

Molly's eyes were trained on the clock nailed to the wall opposite her. It was not a normal clock, rather a unique invention that allowed her to constantly know where her family was. There was a hand for each member of the Weasley clan. The hands pointed to wherever the person may be. For instance, the clock informed her that most of them were home, though that was rather obvious. Now, however, she drummed her fingers impatiently against the tabletop as she waited for the hand that signified her husband Arthur to go from "travelling" to "home". Today was supposed to be a free day for the man but he got called away on an emergency. Something about charmed porcelain statues coming to life and attacking whoever had the misfortune of owning them. The pair was going to take the children to Diagon Alley for their school supplies. Molly was eager for this as she heard Gilderoy Lockhart would be doing a book signing down at Flourish and Blotts. She must see him!

Luckily, Arthur's clock hand suddenly switched to home. Thirty seconds later, her wonderful husband with his bright smile and balding ginger hair stepped through the back door.

"Morning family," he greeted cheerfully, planting a kiss on his wife's cheek.

The children answered him while still stuffing their faces. Molly frowned at their lack of manners.

"Arthur, dear, I saved you a plate," she told him as he set his coat down. "You know how the boys get where food is involved."

He chuckled and dug into his own food. "We're still on for the Alley?"

"Yes, we need to get their school things. The train leaves in a few days."

"And mum wants to see that Lockhart bloke," Ginny interjected with a cheeky grin.

Molly playfully tugged on a lock of her only daughter's hair. "Well, it would be nice to hear what he has to say. He seems awfully interesting, don't you think?"

"He's about as interesting as Percy," Fred answered.

"And we all know how interesting our dear older brother is," George added.

Percy scowled but chose to ignore them. "Mother, you don't actually believe he did any of those things?"

Molly looked horrified that someone would dare question her idol. "Of course I do! Gilderoy is a genius!"

"Who're we talking about?" Harry whispered to Ron.

"Some bloke all the old witches are in love with," Ron answered none too quietly.

"You think I'm old, do you?" Molly snapped.

Ron paused with his fork hovering just outside of his mouth. He shook his head and averted his eyes.

"Smooth, Ron," Ginny said with a roll of her eyes. She and Harry exchanged a glance, chuckling, but she instantly sobered and blushed, looking away. Harry frowned, clearly confused.

"Did you read the _Prophet_, Molly?" Arthur asked, interrupting the debate on Lockhart's validity.

"Oh yes, it was rather horrible," she retorted somberly.

"It's a shame what happened to the Featherbys."

"What happened?" Percy asked. "I wasn't able to read the paper today. _Someone_ got oatmeal all over it." He looked down his nose at the twins who grinned mischievously.

"Are you a wizard or not?" Ron demanded incredulously.

"You _know_ you're not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts until you're seventeen, Ronald!"

Ron grumbled to himself but said no more.

"William Featherby was found murdered in his home," Arthur said gravely in response to Percy's former question.

"Featherby? The man from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"

"That's the one."

"Do they know who did it?"

"His sister Marie was served with a permanent stay at St. Mungo's but they discovered her missing yesterday morning, along with her wand. They found her today, dead at the bottom of a bridge. One test on her wand showed she was the one to cast the Killing Curse on her brother."

"That's so horrible," Ginny said quietly. The others nodded their agreement.

"How did she get out, though?" Percy asked. "I thought leaving the hospital undetected was nearly as hard as escaping Azkaban?"

"No one knows," Arthur answered as he put his plate in the kitchen sink. "Ah, well, I'm sure the Ministry will get that sorted out. But we have things to do today! Are we all ready?"

An hour later and after a mishap with Harry getting lost in Knockturn Alley, the Weasleys were in Diagon Alley doing their last minute school shopping. They were currently in the bookstore, surveying the long line that led to none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. Molly was giddy with anticipation of seeing the man. She really hoped he was as gorgeous in person as he was on the covers of his books.

While the flamboyant author was pestering Harry, Fred and George were wandering the store discussing what new pranks they would pull this year. It had been their dream to start up a joke shop to spread the laughter they caused but seeing as they didn't have the funds necessary, they would stick to performing their own well-thought out pranks. Making sure their parents weren't watching, they ducked out of the shop and into the busy alley. People in a rush to go wherever they needed to go bumped into them every few minutes, making the journey to Zonko's rather long and grueling. Debating whether or not the need to replenish their stock was _that_ important, they failed to notice the two people standing in their way until they ran smack into them.

"Watch where you're going!" a decidedly female voice snapped. "People these days," she grumbled.

Fred scowled as he helped his brother up from where he fell on the pavement. Then his frown converted into a brilliant smile.

"Are you saying you don't care for people like us, love?" he asked cheekily, knowing the response that would come.

The girl, a tall and slender sort with vicious eyes, turned her steely gaze on the redheads. Instantly, her expression softened and she grinned.

"Oh, Fred!" She threw herself at the boy and quickly pulled George into a hug as well.

"Good day Miss Finley," George greeted in a faux posh accent. He bowed, his nose nearly coming in contact with the ground beneath his feet.

Paris Finley came from a prestigious family that could trace their roots to the time of Merlin, if they were jaded enough to go that far back. The Finleys prided themselves on their pureblood status, maintained through years of inbreeding to ensure no tainted people entered the family. Their kin were dark witches and wizards who belonged to Slytherin house and despised anyone with a drop of Muggle blood in their systems (they would not be objected to spilling blood to find out). All avid supporters of blood supremacy, the family consisted of, unsurprisingly, followers of the Dark Lord. They heartily agreed with everything he stood for and vowed to aid in the quest to rid the world of the filthy creatures that dared join rank with them in the magical world.

And then Paris came along, throwing a wrench into the delusion of pureblood grandeur her family held. With her dark hair and eyes, and her shrewd personality, there was no doubt that she was a Finley. She was, however, a vastly different person. Smart and cunning, she had the makings of a Slytherin, and yet, she did not. Compared to her parents, she was kind, which was saying a lot as she was almost always despised by anyone that met her. She had a certain leniency towards those she was raised to hate and openly went against the ways of her family. While still maintaining certain aspects of the Finley mentality, she was nothing like them. This was made apparent as she entered Hogwarts.

It was assumed she would join Slytherin, as every other Finley before her had. The Great Hall was stunned into silence as the Sorting Hat declared her a Gryffindor. Numbly, she approached the scarlet and gold clad table to feeble applause. Few of her new Housemates accepted her with open arms. Slytherins overtly scorned her. The rest of the student body stared openmouthed at the eleven year old. This was perhaps the most shocking thing to happen since Sirius Black became a Gryffindor nearly twenty years ago. Summoning enough courage through the haze of shock, she said to those watching her,

"Take a picture, will you? It will last longer. And anyway, for now, I'm not going anywhere."

The Sorting resumed after the snooty girl's proclamation. Soon after, two redheads seated themselves beside her, followed by a mysterious girl with bright eyes. The four young children became fast friends, eventually inseparable, which was another surprise. Paris willingly mingling with blood traitors and the like?

Most astonishing, however, was that the Finleys did not disown their daughter as expected.

The final member of the Gryffindor group, and Paris' best friend, was a girl by the name of Olivia Wells, better known as Livvy. While not as prestigious as the Finleys, the Wells were once a noble family. Pure blood was valued, but not to a terrible extreme. Somewhere along the line, though, the blood was tainted and mixed. No one bothered asking Olivia's blood status.

Livvy was a petite girl with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. She was kind and charming; always quick to flash a dazzling smile that could make the hardest of hearts melt. Highly intelligent, people often believed she truly belonged in Ravenclaw. Perhaps a trait gained from Paris, she had a nasty temper that even her bold Housemates feared. No one was quite certain, though, how she and Paris befriended the infamous Weasley twins, as they were all nearly opposites.

Maybe the twins pushed for the friendship, as George was rather smitten with Olivia.

"Have you lot seen the mess at the bookstore?" Paris asked, drawing George's attention away from his blue-eyed friend.

Fred groaned. "It's horrible. All of those middle-aged women drooling over Lockhart; it's disturbing." He shuddered.

"I think Lockhart's rather fit for someone of his age," Livvy interjected dreamily.

Paris glared at her friend. "Are you serious? It's obviously some sort of Glamour."

"You would know," Livvy shot back, narrowing her eyes.

The four turned at the sound of hurried footsteps. Percy was rushing towards them, his coifed red hair all out of place from the exertion.

"There you are! Mother does not appreciate you wandering off," he snapped. "Come along, back to the store, now."

"Hello Percy," Paris and Olivia greeted with a smirk. Percy raised an eyebrow but said nothing more as he pulled his brothers away. The girls followed, snickering.

"There's Mr. Fit," Paris taunted as they entered Flourish and Blotts, where Lockhart was still going strong.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Piss off."

"He's about as fit as a mountain troll," Fred said.

"As smart as one, too," George added.

Livvy suddenly gasped. "Paris, look! There's that new book over there!" She yanked her disgruntled friend through the store to a large display that seemed to be on the other side of the world.

"Hang on," Paris halted, pulling her arm away. "What's going on there?"

Close by, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were in what appeared to be a heated discussion with Lucius and Draco Malfoy. When Arthur Weasley lunged at the other man, Paris stomped over, followed by a wary Olivia.

"Well, well, well; if it isn't Mr. Malfoy and his clone," Paris sniped, crossing her arms.

"Is there a problem here?" Olivia asked, narrowing her eyes.

Lucius' own stormy gray eyes widened as he took in the girls before him. "No," he said slowly. "We were just leaving." He grabbed hold of his son's shoulder and stalked away, not before tossing something back at the redheaded family in anger.

No one noticed the fear in the man's cold eyes, or someone slipping a tattered diary in Ginny's cauldron.


	5. Obliviate

_AN: Hello, dolls. I haven't read through this chapter apart from the few sentences that came up when I spell-checked it so if there are any errors, feel free to tell me. Fun fact: This was 18 pages long on Word. Another fun fact: I GOT INTO POTTERMORE. That's all._

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><p><span>Chapter 5: Obliviate<span>

A grim wave shook the very foundation of the castle.

Fear crept up the stone walls like a great ominous spider web with silken venomous strands flitting about the grounds, latching onto the heavy hearts of those foolish enough to remain. It lingered in the air, tangible to every frightened and experienced eye. Every day it was there, clouding their minds and forcing disbelief, betrayal. It tasted bitter on blackened souls, shrouding everyone in eternal darkness.

Hogwarts was facing a terrible tragedy, one it had not seen in years. Something had been let loose in the school, striking when one least expected. Where it lurked, no one knew. The absence of the beast lulled the students and faculty into a false sense of security; the ignorant fools felt safe, comforted. Now, though, lives were at stake. No one was safe anymore. They were all infected with the slithering spidery fear as they watched their peers fall, cold and lifeless, one by one. Gone, but not dead. Vegetative, but still alive. And the blame could be placed on one person.

Harry Potter was living a nightmare.

His life had turned, and not for the better. The Wizarding world had accepted him with open arms nearly a year ago, changing life as he knew it. Excitement scorched his veins like Fiendfyre when he was told who he _really_ was. "The Boy Who Lived," the witches and wizards called him. What an impressive title. Overcome with such sweet ecstasy, he did not comprehend what exactly that entailed. The only thing that mattered was he was _someone_, someone important. And he would finally be able to leave his wretched aunt and uncle. What were they called? Muggles? He would have to stay with those Muggles for the summer but would not be that bad. He was _magical_.

It was his second year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He expected things to go over as well as they did the year prior, sans evil Defense Against the Dark Arts professor of course. The beginning of term was a bit bumpy, what with him and Ron having to fly a Ford Anglia to Hogwarts due to Platform 9 ¾ sealing itself. All seemed well after that, though, with the exception of the obnoxious Professor Lockhart. He believed the term would be a good one.

Until people and cats were Petrified and the school blamed _him_.

It started with the voice. It called out to him, hissing secrets from the depths of the castle. Naturally curious, he followed it. It led him to a slightly flooded hallway, and Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, completely frozen. Seeing as he was the luckiest lad in England, hell in _the world_, Filch came slinking down the corridor. When the old caretaker laid eyes on the frightened boy, he immediately blamed young Harry. The man did not even care that there was no possible way for a twelve year old to have done such a thing. And obviously, the rest of the school began making assumptions that he was the evil mastermind behind it.

Luck indeed.

Then there was the incident with the rogue bludger that tried to kill him in a Quidditch match, followed with the Dueling Club disaster. Severus Snape, the foul man that he is, paired Harry with Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was almost as horrid as Snape. Because they were of the same age, the slimy blond was able to harass Harry more than their Potions professor so perhaps that made him worse. It did not matter, though, as Harry knew he would not be partaking in a fair fight.

The students were to simply practice Defensive spells. Malfoy did not listen, as was expected, and quickly went on the offensive. He hurled spells at Harry, the latter returning the attack with equal vigor. It was when a slippery snake erupted from Malfoy's wand that the real problem began.

Harry discovered he could talk to snakes.

The serpent set its sight on Justin Finch-Fletchley. Harry, being the kind-hearted young man he is, saved the Hufflepuff by kindly asking the snake to go elsewhere. He smiled benignly at his year mate, who simply stared at him in acute horror. Apparently, Harry discovered, talking to snakes is _not_ common, in the Wizarding world or elsewhere, and is considered to be a trait of only extremely Dark wizards. This further fueled the "Harry is the Heir of Slytherin" theories that had begun to circulate around the school, as Slytherin is a famous Parselmouth as well.

That and when he was discovered beside a petrified Justin.

She was walking the halls alone—a daring feat as of late, even for a Gryffindor. But she needed out; she was suddenly overcome with a severe desperation to _be herself_. This pretense she had crafted, created to hide the fact that she was Artemis Lestrange, was wearing her thin, grinding away at nerves already stretched uncomfortably thin. She hated her parents for a moment—hated them for making her feel she had to hide. Why couldn't she be normal?

She mentally cursed herself and those putrid thoughts away. Hadn't it already been established that she would never be normal, that it wasn't what she _wanted_? Would she sacrifice who she was so she could be more like the _Weasleys_ for instance? Of course not. It would be much more preferable to live as someone she was not, even if it was a sea slug, if only to ultimately preserve who she was.

An ominous slithering sound hit her ears.

She stopped where she was, cautiously leaning around the corner to see what it was. Hastily she retreated: a basilisk was gliding down the corridor. She laughed darkly, mulling over all of the fun she could have with this.

If it did not eat her, that is.

"Who is there?"

This was just too perfect.

"I know someone is out there!"

A frightened house elf donned in nothing but a tea towel rounded the corner. Her eyes grew wide at the maniacal glint in Artemis'.

"Missus should be in bed!" the elf squeaked. "Let Binky take missus back to missus's common room."

"You shouldn't be out here," Artemis warned indifferently.

"Neither should you!" It seemed shocked by its outburst. Suddenly, it ran headfirst into the wall.

With a roll of her eyes, Artemis slid back her sleeve to reveal where her wand was hidden in a holster. The elf was trembling. "I'd say I'm sorry but it probably wouldn't matter. And I'm not."

"What—"

The elf was hit with two spells—one to forget and one to silence. Suddenly, she did not know why she was here, wherever that was. She was shoved roughly from behind and slid unceremoniously across the stone floor. Sighing silently (too silently), she attempted to stand. She looked up and locked eyes with a beast, seeing no more.

Artemis' blood roared with the wave of adrenaline coursing through her system. She died. The stupid elf _died_. It would have been much preferred if the demise had happened to a Mudblood but an elf would have to do. The basilisk carted its meal off, not before turning its deadly gaze on her. She quickly looked away, long hair creating a curtain between the two, as she feared the worst. A giddy smile crossed her face when it simply ignored her. Stealthily she slipped behind a tapestry that concealed a secret passageway.

Footsteps uncharacteristically silent against the ground led her to a corridor that, unfortunately, was not deserted. Thin fingers trailed the wall with tips caressing the coarse stone, guiding her way through the dark school.

"Missus is a _bad_ witch."

For the second time that night, Artemis halted. She raised a brow as she lit her wand, looking for the disembodied voice. The dim glow revealed another elf, one that was all too familiar to her.

"Dobby knows what missus did."

"What is Dobby doing here?" she challenged, an ounce of venom leaking into her tone.

"Dobby is here to save Harry Potter," Dobby told her honestly, narrowing his huge eyes. "Dobby remembers missus; Missus was the bad niece of my mistress!"

Artemis laughed humorously. "Ah, it is such a pleasure to see you again!"

"Dobby knows what the niece of my mistress did," the elf repeated. "Dobby knows what missus did to Binky."

Artemis crossed her arms. "What are you going to do about it, hmm?"

"Dobby will—pardon?"

"You know. Obviously you must have some plan on what you will do with that tidbit. The 'bad niece' of your mistress would like to hear."

Dobby yanked his bat-like ears as he thought. "Dobby does not understand."

She rolled her eyes again. "Clearly. Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere I must be."

"Dobby knows missus is up to no good," he cried. "Missus will harm Harry Potter!"

"Dobby," Artemis began earnestly. "You do know that your masters are descendants of the Blacks, yes?"

He nodded.

"And what, pray tell, is the reason you are conveniently forgetting that _I'm_ also part of that family…?"

"Dobby has not forgotten," he admitted, albeit reluctantly.

"So why are you not beating yourself up? You're not being very nice to me," she simpered.

Dobby's eyes twitched, as did his hand. "Dobby does not want to be your elf no more."

"Dobby doesn't have a _choice_."

As if on cue, he began pounding his tiny fist against his head. Artemis grinned in satisfaction before pointing her wand at him. "As a relative of your masters, I command you to leave, Dobby."

Before he could return to his home, she hit him with a memory charm. Now that she had gotten rid of _two _silly little elves, she continued her stroll through the castle. Unfortunately, she did not get very far. Approaching voices had her hiding behind yet another tapestry. She cautiously peered out into the corridor, recognizing the forms of Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. A sneer automatically pasted itself on her face. They were discussing the recent attacks. More importantly they were discussing _her_. They feared she had something to do with Slytherin's beast being unleashed. Perhaps she did, she was not quite sure to be honest. A vague notion in the back of her mind suggested it had something to do with that tattered diary. But she would not stand for those infuriating people to place blame on her that was not fully deserved.

Once the coast was finally clear, she cast a Disillusionment charm on herself and bolted for the statue of the one-eyed witch. She clambered down the passage as gracefully as she could and slowly emerged into Honeyduke's cellar. There wouldn't be anyone out and about in the village of Hogsmeade so she wasn't too concerned with being caught. She pulled her cloak tighter around her frame and quickened her pace. Up ahead was the Shrieking Shack, which, she knew, was not actually haunted. She distantly remembered a tale involving a werewolf being hidden within the walls of the old house, which was the reason for the myths of violent wailing ghouls. Shrugging indifferently, she easily entered the dilapidated structure.

It dawned on her that all of this was truly a lot of work to simply visit the Forbidden Forest. Though she was a Gryffindor, she was a Slytherin through and through; this ridiculous route was to save her hide. Had she gone through the front door of the school, she would have been found in a matter of seconds. There were an infinite number of security measures now in place on the school that she was not willing to discover. So that was why she was okay with travelling to Honeyduke's, breaking into the Shrieking Shack, and braving the Whomping Willow to get where she wanted to go.

The limbs of the ferocious tree stood eerily still as she pressed the knot that would save her life for the time being. Releasing it, she ran for safety, marveling as the tree animated once more. It swung violently at a passing bird. She pulled her hood over her head and walked into the depths of the forest.

The glowing tip of her wand barely illuminated enough of her surroundings to provide her with an idea of where she was going. Luckily, she had made the trek many times during the day so she knew exactly which way to wander. All around, creatures of the night came to life, trying in vain to frighten the girl trespassing on their property. They glowered as she passed; she scowled as a flock of some strange type of bird flew far too close for her liking.

Artemis soon stood in a clearing with dead and decaying trees making the border. Up ahead a herd of thestrals was nudging a bloody carcass. Beyond that she could make out the ambiguous figure of some other creature. She tried to ignore it as she seated herself on the cold ground. With her wand she summoned something from where it was hidden beneath the dirt. When she held it in her hand, she instantly relaxed: It was a bow—one she had crafted herself with wood from the forest. She severely missed her own, though she had not touched it in years. Her adoptive parents provided her with one but it was not nearly as good. Here at Hogwarts she had to make her own, which was a project that lasted her several months, as she was a horrible perfectionist.

She pulled a handmade arrow from the quiver she had been wearing beneath her cloak and pulled it into place with ease that had not been seen in quite some time. Aiming for the blackened skies, she focused on a bird that was flying a difficult course. It darted through the trees before zooming into open air and then hiding once more; it was almost as if it knew it was going to die. Artemis smirked, took aim, and fired. The arrow ascended at an alarming rate where it pierced the avian flesh before descending with miraculous speed attached to its kill. The bird squawked pitifully at her feet. With the toe of her boot she snapped its neck, ensuring its death.

"That was rather kind of you."

She turned to face the speaker, bow and arrow at the ready. The centaur approaching her raised its arms in a peaceful gesture.

"I do not mean to harm you," it said in that annoyingly calm voice. "I only seek to compliment a skilled archer."

Artemis lowered her bow somewhat. The centaur smiled grimly.

"Mars is bright tonight," it said mysteriously. "I normally would not be happy with a human on our land but I must say I am impressed. That bird has proved rather elusive to my men," he told her, gesturing to the animal sitting lifelessly beside her. "You showed great proficiency with your instrument. That is a trait greatly admired by the centaurs." He bowed ever so slightly, never taking his eyes off of her. "You also showed compassion to the animal, ending its suffering."

"I didn't do it for the bird," she told the creature bluntly. "I did it to finish the kill."

"Either way, you ceased the pain."

She scoffed but finally took her aim off of the centaur.

"For that, dear human," the centaur continued. "I respect you."

"Am I supposed to be flattered?"

He chuckled. "You could at least be kind."

She nodded, not quite feeling the need to be kind. "Well, if that's all then I should get going."

"Before you leave, I will tell you that I will watch the stars for you, young human. I will allow a fellow archer to return to the forest to practice her craft."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks for your vote of approval." She shrunk her bow and quiver to a size that could be easily placed in her pocket. As she began to leave the forest, she turned to face the clearing once more. All that she saw were the thestrals licking the bloody ground and a centaur retreating into the darkness, where she assumed he would bury the animal.

…

There was great panic in the castle now; it manifested itself in trembling limbs and frantic eyes. Painful thoughts clouded the safekeeping, causing delusions of grand death and sorrow. Someone was going to die; it had happened once before, what was to stop it from happening again? Muggle-borns and ghosts and cats were falling victim to the monster, collapsing under the weight of their stony bodies. Afraid to walk alone, the rest latched themselves onto other prime targets of the inevitable terror. Swirling in great mists tangible to those who looked well enough, there was the secret of the terror.

_Who would be next?_, they'd whisper to one another in fleeting glances as they rushed down the hall.

_It won't be me, I'm too brave._

_It won't be me, I'm too smart._

_It won't be me, I'm to cunning._

_It won't be me, I'm too loyal._

She knew it could be _anyone_; they were all vulnerable to the demise she unknowingly unleashed on the school. She desperately wished that it could be her – that no one else would have to suffer.

But he wouldn't let that happen.

Artemis sat cross-legged on the edge of a bed, toying with the hair that should have been hers. A malicious smile was painted onto her cruelly pretty face, begging someone to question what she was so ecstatic about.

_They're getting what they deserve_, she would say. But who would dare to ask her?

A diary sat open on her lap, blank pages open to reveal nothing. Nothing, that is, unless you searched hard enough. She clasped an eagle-feather quill in her hand, running the material between her long fingers as she thought. Slowly dipping the tip into an inkwell, she wrote out a sentence in her elegant scrawl. Heart hammering in her chest, she waited for something, anything to happen. Before her eyes, words started forming where her own had disappeared. Her wild smile grew larger as she conversed with the entity, smug satisfaction radiating from her frame.

The dormitory door flew open, revealing a wide-eyed redhead.

"What are you doing in here?" Ginny demanded, advancing on the still smiling girl.

"I'm here for the same reason as you," Artemis responded coolly, placing the quill down.

Ginny gasped as she caught sight of the diary. She made to snatch it away but Artemis was too quick for her. "Give it back, its mine! You shouldn't be going through Harry's things anyway!"

Artemis laughed. "Oh, little firstie, don't you know how to respect your elders? I think I should keep it; this Tom fellow is rather interesting."

"But it's mine," she whined. "Tom knows all my secrets and I know his! I can't let you have it!"

"Oh, but _I _can't let _you_ have it," Artemis said simply, assuming the innocent expression of a newborn doe. "You might hurt someone."

"What?" Ginny faltered.

"I know it's you, Ginny. You're the one hurting people."

The redhead seemed to be waging an internal battle, one that had her nearly in tears. Finally, in a small voice she said, "I didn't hurt anyone."

Artemis smiled bitterly. "Yes, yes you did. This is your fault, Ginny. You're the reason they're _dead_."

"No!" she wailed. "I didn't kill anyone! I would never!"

"But you have! And you will! You're a monster, Ginny! You must be stopped!"

"I didn't do anything," she retorted somewhat angrily, fighting back the tears.

Artemis stood, slowly advancing on the terrified girl. "They _will_ find out you did this, Ginny. I won't let you get away with murder."

"But I didn't—" A painful cry filled the small dormitory, interrupting whatever she had been about to say. Her wide eyes stared down the tip of Artemis's wand.

"I won't let them pin this all on me. You did this. You're the monster, the filthy evil scum that's doing this to these people."

Ginny whimpered pitifully.

"If I give this diary back to you," Artemis began vindictively. "You better actually kill someone."

Ginny shrank back from the vicious look she was receiving. "What's happened to you? You're not like this!"

"But I am. You don't really know me." She thrust the diary into the girl's hands. Ginny scrambled to her feet and turned to leave but Artemis grabbed her arm, keeping her in place. "You really think I'd let you go so easily?" She quirked an eyebrow and raised her wand, leveling her aim to the spot between Ginny's eyes. Ginny visibly blanched, suddenly afraid of what was going to happen. Then came a single word, a word that sparked more fear before quickly erasing it:

"_Obliviate_."

Ginny blinked rapidly, clearing the white spots from her eyes.

"You're a murderer, Ginny."

She looked around, shocked to find herself alone and in the second year boys' dormitory, a room that was now a horrid mess. Overcome with dread and tears, she hastily took her leave. Running into the common room, she threw herself into the arms of the first redhead she found.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" Fred asked, startled.

"I-I didn't mean to hurt anyone," she cried, soaking the front of his robes with her misery. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Ginny continued to moan about how sorry she was while her twin brothers looked at one another in shock. She confessed that _she_ was the one behind the mysterious attacks. Hysteric sobs almost disguised her cries of regret, guilt, _pain_.

McGonagall chose that moment to waltz into the common room.

The Transfiguration professor listened to the frantic girl with wide eyes. Once her shock wore off, she grabbed a hold of Ginny's arm and escorted her to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore listened to the youngest Weasley with rapt attention. He showed no signs of surprise but McGonagall knew that inside, he was seething. The elderly man removed his spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Miss Weasley, can you tell me how you were able to open the Chamber?" he prompted.

Ginny's brow furrowed. "I…I-I don't know," she admitted blandly.

Albus and Minerva shared a _look_. "Do you know how you petrified the students?" Minerva asked.

Ginny chewed her bottom lip. "I don't remember."

"There is no possible way she could have done this, Albus!"

Dumbledore nodded his agreement. "Unless she had assistance."

"Assistance?" Ginny repeated.

"Ginerva, what prompted you to confess?"

"I don't know!" she wailed. "I just…I just _know_ it was me!"

"Do you remember anything that has happened over the last few months?"

"Of course!"

"Are there any times you found yourself somewhere and were not sure why you were there?"

She twirled a strand of her around her finger. "I…Yes, now that I think of it there were!"

The adults glanced at one another again. "Are you implying that she was possessed?" Minerva asked incredulously. When he nodded again, she said, "By whom? By what?"

Dumbledore sighed. "That is what I am unsure of."

"Professors?" Ginny began uncertainly. "I remember something…something about a book. It was one I thought my mother bought when I wasn't looking. But it…I don't think it's a very good book."

"How so?"

"Here, I'll show you." She rummaged through her cloak pockets looking for the diary. Oddly, it was not there where she remembered it being. It had weighed heavily in her pocket as she broke down in front of her brothers but now it mysteriously vanished. She visibly blanched. "It's gone," she said in a strained whisper.

Somehow, the entire school heard of Ginny's confession. All but her friends and the Slytherins believed she was the true heir of Slytherin. Those that accused Harry came up and apologized, not before shooting a venomous glare at the young redhead. Ginny cowered into Ron's side whenever they would do that. He would place an arm protectively around her shoulders and hurl ugly words at the perpetrators. For a while, it made her feel better knowing that she had so many looking out for her. Even so, she refused to leave her dormitory unless it was to attend an important class now.

"We've got to do something," Ron whined one night as he, Harry, and Hermione sat around the common room fire. "Ginny's been locked up in her room for the past two days. How can these people really believe she's Slytherin's heir?"

"I don't think they do, Ron," Hermione answered without looking up from her book. "Ginny's a scapegoat: a way for them to explain the unexplainable."

"That doesn't make it right!"

"I never said it did. I feel horrible for her. One of the girls she shares a room with told me she cried all last night."

Ron groaned. "I hate when she cries. I feel so…useless. These people are being prats. Harry could handle it, 'cause he's Harry. But Ginny—"

"Are you saying it's alright for them to harass Harry?" Hermione challenged, glaring at him.

"Well yeah—I mean no. But he's got more, ah, what do you call it? He's tougher than Ginny is!"

"Ginny was raised with a whole gang of boys; I'd say she's plenty tough."

"Yeah, but—"

"Will you cut it out?" Harry said, finally breaking his silence. His eyes left the fire as he stared at his friends; black clouds tinged with a fiery orange filled his vision. "Arguing over who's tougher won't help Ginny."

"He's right," Hermione sighed. "I wish we could figure out who did this."

They all turned as the sound of a sniffle came from the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Ginny descended the last few steps and curled up on a chair beside the sofa. "I'm sorry if I worried you all," she said after a moment of quiet.

"It's alright, Gin," Harry told her, squeezing her hand. "We know you didn't do it, and if the rest of the school is stupid enough to believe you're evil then that's their problem."

She gave a pitiful watery chuckle.

"We're going to find out who did this," Ron said, grabbing her other hand. "We're going to clear your name."

"Oh!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed, jumping off of the couch. She began to do a strange little jig, earning several amused stares from their Housemates.

"Er, Hermione? Do you have a niffler in your trousers or something?" Ron asked.

"I know what it is!" she whispered fiercely. "Come on!" She grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him out of the common room. Harry was not aware she was that strong.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked from where he was jogging to keep up with the two.

"To the library!"

He scoffed. "Yeah, okay. There's an evil beast running around the school and we're going to the bloody _library_ at night. That sounds safe."

"No one told you to come, you know."

"I'm obviously not going to leave you two out here by yourselves!"

Harry sniggered. "Thought you said I was tough, Ron?"

"I think he just doesn't want to walk back to Gryffindor tower by himself because he's _scared_," Hermione smirked.

She and Harry entered the library without a retort from their redheaded friend. They looked around, noticing he wasn't with them.

"Where'd he go?" Harry questioned.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, maybe he decided to go back after all. We have to hurry; the library closes in ten minutes!" She bolted for a shelf at such a speed Harry lost sight of her.

"What are we looking for?"

"A book about Dark creatures!" she answered from somewhere within the library. Harry winced as Madame Pince made a loud shushing noise. "Harry, I've found it!"

He turned and discovered the bushy-haired girl beside him. "When did you—"

She waved away his questions dismissively. "I know what Slytherin's beast is!"

"What is it, then?"

She motioned for him to follow her out into the corridor. She opened her fist and unraveled a sheet of torn parchment.

"Hermione, is that from a _library book_?"

Grinning wickedly, she nodded. "I needed to keep this so I can explain. The monster is a basilisk, Harry. It's using the plumbing to get around."

"A what?"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin. It's a really big snake. That's why you were hearing voices we couldn't hear!"

"So I'm not crazy, then?"

"That's a rather objective question but it's not important. What _is_ important is this snake is what's petrifying people."

"Won't this give people another reason to believe I'm the heir?" he asked warily.

"I suppose, yes, but if we tell Dumbledore then we should be able to clear your name, as well as Ginny's!"

Not quite paying attention, Hermione stumbled over something. She reached out for Harry's arm to steady herself. When her eyes fell to the floor, a blood-curdling scream left her parted lips. Harry followed her gaze and gasped.

Ron was lying face down on the floor, as still as stone.

Several teachers and a horde of students ran out into the hall, curious and frightened of what they would find. McGonagall was the first to arrive. She looked to the whimpering Hermione and speechless Harry and then the petrified Ron. Knees buckled under the weight of this unbearable stress. She leaned against Pomona Sprout for support.

The students looked at the trio of friends, unsure of what to believe. Some believed there was no way Ginny would do this to her brother; others believed nothing would stop her. The Weasley in question pushed past her peers and promptly fell to the floor beside her brother, crying hysterically. Madame Pomfrey levitated Ron to the Hospital Wing, followed by Ginny, Hermione, and Harry.

No one knew what to believe.

"Harry," Hermione whispered as they made their way back to the common room. She held onto his arm, afraid to let go. Ginny trailed behind them, lost in her own horrible thoughts. "The basilisk can kill if you stare directly into its eyes. But no one has died yet. Well, except for that girl fifty years ago."

"They must have only seen a reflection then, right?"

She nodded. "Exactly. Mrs. Norris probably saw the eyes in the water on the floor. Colin saw it through his camera. Justin must have seen it through Sir Nicholas and—"

"Nick got the full force of it but he's already dead. What about Ron?"

"I was thinking he tripped and saw the eyes in the marble on the floor. Oh Harry, what if we had gone looking for him when we realized he wasn't with us? We probably could have saved him!"

Harry sighed. "I don't know, Hermione. Professor Sprout and Madame Pomfrey will come up with the antidote soon and all will be well."

"But haven't you realized only Muggle-borns have been petrified? It must be some sort of ploy to 'cleanse' the school."

"Ron's not a Muggle-born, though. He was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Because the basilisk was coming for me."

Harry stopped walking. Ginny ran into him. "Don't say that, Hermione."

"But it's true. We were so close; it obviously was coming after me instead and—"

"Please, just…Can we not talk about this right now?"

She nodded grimly and entered the Gryffindor tower. Ginny bid them good night and bounded up the stairs to her dormitory. Harry had one foot in the common room when something occurred to him. He stepped back into the corridor, his eyes following a trail of spiders scuttling up the wall.

"Harry?" Hermione called. "Harry, what is it?"

"Hermione, didn't that book say something about spiders fearing the basilisk?"

"I think so. Why?"

"Look."

She stood beside him and watched the little creatures running as fast as their multiple legs could go. "How strange."

"Where do you think they're going?"

"I'm not sure. Probably—Harry, where are you going?"

Harry was running down the corridor after the spiders, pulling his Invisibility Cloak from where it was folded in his pocket.

"Harry, don't!"

He already disappeared under the shimmering cloak. Hermione groaned but ran after him. She bumped into something and, realizing what it was, she pulled the cloak over herself as well.

"This is the stupidest idea you have ever had. And you've had some ridiculous ones."

He chuckled. "But you go along with them, don't you? Shh, we'll get caught."

The duo cautiously wandered the school behind the spiders. The arachnids were climbing out of windows, under doors. Harry looked around to make sure they were alone before pushing open the oak front doors. Suddenly, he knew just where the spiders were going. They were fleeing Hogwarts for the safety of—

"Harry, they're going into the forest!"

"Looks like it."

"We can't go in there, it's forbidden!"

"Hasn't stopped us before, has it?"

She mumbled under her breath but said no more. Tentatively, they maneuvered the overgrowth of the Forbidden Forest, careful to avoid squashing the spiders. Minutes ticked by and the shallow moonlight barely reached them. Hermione lit her wand as Harry removed the cloak. Eventually, they found themselves in what appeared to be the center of the forest. It was cloaked with thick spider webs and hundreds of the creatures, all of varying sizes, peered at them with their eight dark black eyes. Lying before them was the biggest spider they had ever seen.

"They're Acromantulas," Hermione explained. "In other words, giant spiders."

"Yeah, I wasn't aware of that," Harry whispered back in a shaky voice. He couldn't help but think how terrified Ron would be at the moment.

"Who goes there?" a booming voice demanded.

"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger of Hogwarts," Harry answered.

"You humans are a long way from home," the voice said. Harry was startled to realize it was the largest Acromantula. "What is it you seek?"

"You're Aragog, aren't you?"

"That I am."

"I was wondering if you knew anything about the Chamber of Secrets."

"Ah, yes. It was many years ago that the Chamber had been opened."

"Was it Hagrid?"

"Of course not. Hagrid would never harm anyone. He is far too kind and loyal to do such a thing. Take myself for example: He could have simply ended my life when I was a young hatchling but he raised me and allowed me to live out my life here in the forest. Hagrid is no more the perpetrator than I am."

"Do you know who did it, though?" Hermione asked.

"Alas, I do not. All I remember is Hagrid being expelled for the murder of that girl in the bathroom."

Hermione and Harry looked at one another, both seemingly thinking the same thing. "Thank you so much for your help, Aragog," Hermione finally said. "We better get going."

"You wish to leave so soon? I do not think I can allow that. My children have not fed yet."

"Er, what?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Feast, my family."

"Harry, I think we better go now," Hermione said franticly, pulling him away. "He's trying to get us eaten!"

That woke him up. He turned to run with Hermione hot on his heels, as well as tons of spiders. The Acromantulas came close, snapping at them with their venomous pinchers. Hermione screamed as she ducked, narrowly escaping becoming a creature's meal. Suddenly, Harry found himself ensnared—an arrow soared through the trees, striking through his cloak and trapping him against a tree. He tried to pull away but it was to no avail. His wand lay discarded at his feet. This was the end: it had to be.

Light flooded the forest, scaring off several spiders. Hermione ran over and used a Severing charm to free Harry. Mr. Weasley's Ford Anglia drove up beside them, throwing open its doors. The teens quickly scrambled in, breathing a sigh of relief as the car drove out of the forest.

"That probably tops the list of worst ideas you've had," Hermione said as they marched back to the school.

"You're underestimating me," Harry replied, "We've got five more years of school!"

Hermione ignored him. "Aragog said the last victim of the basilisk to die was murdered in a bathroom. Do you think…?"

"Myrtle. Why didn't we think of it sooner? Come on!"

Together they ran to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, trying to remain quiet and keep the cloak over them. Along the way, they ran past the staff room. The teachers were congregated there, discussing the Chamber crisis. Harry and Hermione learned that a body had been found, that of a third year Muggle-born from Hufflepuff. McGonagall expressed her concerns that another body would be found as well, seeing as a student had been kidnapped and taken to the Chamber. It was Paris Finley, Fred and George's friend. If the monster was not found, the school would be closed. Horrified, Harry realized they must find the Chamber quickly.

"We must do something," McGonagall cried in exasperation.

"What do you believe we should do?" Snape's slithering voice asked.

They heard someone nervously drum their fingers against a table. Finally, Lockhart spoke. "I, er, say we discover the beast! It's probably a tiny little thing with mommy issues. Easily defeated!"

"If you're so sure," Professor Sprout began. "Why don't _you_ go find it?"

"Yes, you've already fought so many other vicious creatures!" Professor Flitwick agreed.

"I'll stop the beast!" they heard Lockhart exclaim. "I will go now and find the Chamber!"

"Hopefully that'll get rid of him," Snape muttered, earning a few snickers.

Harry and Hermione flattened themselves against the wall. Lockhart crept out of the room, glanced around, and bolted down the hall. On a crazy whim, Harry threw the cloak off of himself and ran after the blond man.

"Professor Lockhart!" he called.

"Ah, Harry! What, er, are you doing out of bed?"

"Is it true? You're really going after the monster?"

"Er, well, I—"

"I can help you. I know what it is and where it might be."

"Well that's all very nice of you but I really must get going." He hastily sauntered down the hallway.

Harry glared after him, suddenly realizing that he was not going to save Paris. "You're a coward!"

Lockhart turned slowly, a cruel fire burning in his eyes. "Do you truly think so high of me that you believe anything I've ever said I've done?"

"No," Harry answered bluntly.

"Those fools in the staffroom actually believe I'm a hero! Don't they understand that all of that was for the publicity, the _fame_? Harry, my dear boy, you should understand!"

"I don't. I never _lied_ to get known by wizards everywhere. I don't even want this stupid fame!"

Lockhart gasped. "Don't say that! This fame is _everything_ to me! Do you have any idea how marvelous it is to have people pining for you, looking up to you?"

"You probably never even did any of that stuff."

He laughed. "You truly are a genius, aren't you? I merely _stole_ those stories from the people that actually did them. A simple Memory Charm led them to believe that they were no one and that _I_ was the true hero. I'm ashamed to say I may have to do the same to you."

Harry's eyes widened as Lockhart aimed his wand at him. The spell formed on his lips but before he could cast it, a Disarming spell sent him careening into the wall. The air beside Harry rippled magnificently, revealing Hermione holding the cloak.

"I can't believe he's a fraud," she pouted, catching the wand.

Harry scoffed. "Did you expect anything else?"

Lockhart groaned and pulled himself up. He chuckled darkly. "Nice spell work, Miss Granger. Now if you would, I'd like my wand back." He held his palm up expectantly.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow and tucked the wand into her cloak pocket. "I don't think so." She aimed her wand at his chest. "You're coming with us."

"Such nerve!"

"Oh hush," Harry snapped, throwing a Silencing spell at the protesting professor. Hermione giggled, her wand arm never wavering. With Lockhart in tow, they set off once more for the unused girls' lavatory.

Myrtle was gliding morosely through the air, weeping about something or another. Her life (or, rather, her _afterlife_) must have truly been a miserable one. Her head snapped up at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Harry!" She instantly brightened. "What are you doing here? Come to swim in the toilets with me?" She smiled and batted her lashes.

"Er, I wanted to ask you something, Myrtle," Harry said uncertainly.

She frowned. "Oh. No one ever wants to see me just for _me_. They always want something. Why can't anyone ever be nice to me?" she wailed.

"Oh no, I'm not trying to be mean to you!" he backtracked. "I, uh, just wanted to know how you died…" Hermione smacked his arm.

"Really?" Myrtle asked eagerly. "No one's ever cared enough to ask! You're so very kind, Harry." She grinned again. Harry shot Hermione a look.

"Well?" Hermione prompted when Myrtle made no motion to continue.

Myrtle glared at her. "I came into the bathroom because I was upset; Olive Hornby was picking on me again, the old hag. I was crying in one of the bathroom stalls when I heard someone come in. The person began hissing, like a snake. It sounded like a boy so I opened the stall to tell him to go away. I saw a pair of enormous yellow eyes and then I…died."

"That's…that's it?"

"Yes, I just died."

"Myrtle, do you remember where the eyes were?" Harry asked, ignoring Hermione who was fuming slightly.

"Of course, I'll never forget. They were over there, by the sink that's never worked." She pointed at the tap. Harry approached it, running a finger along the pipe. Something engraved on the surface caught his attention. Upon closer inspection, he discovered it was a snake. He looked up at Hermione and Lockhart.

"I think this is it."

"Speak Parseltongue to it," Hermione suggested. Harry did so. The sink opened up, revealing the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

"You're not going in, are you?" Lockhart demanded, now able to communicate as Harry cancelled the spell.

"No," Harry said, advancing on him. "_We're_ going in." He pushed the professor into the gap, where he proceeded to slide down the pipe into the Chamber, screaming the entire way.

"Harry?" Myrtle called. "If you die down there, you're welcome to share my toilet."

Hermione sniggered. Harry repressed a gag. "Er, thanks Myrtle." He then offered a hand to Hermione, guiding her into the tunnel. When he was sure she made it down, he clambered in and slid after her. He landed roughly, tumbling to the floor. As he made to stand, his hand lingered on the floor. Disgusted, his eyes noticed skeletons surrounded them.

"Oh, I feel quite faint," Lockhart announced, staggering towards Hermione. He tripped over a skull and fell forward, grabbing the front of her cloaks. She wrenched herself free, only to notice that Lockhart was perfectly fine and held both his and her wand. Harry aimed his own at the man.

"You wouldn't do that, now would you, Harry?" Lockhart smirked, slowly backing away. Hermione grabbed Harry's hand. "In a matter of minutes you both shall forget everything that I have said. I will tell the Headmaster and the rest of the school that I was the great hero here. Unfortunately, though, poor Miss Finley perished down in the depths of the Chamber and you all will turn insane at the sight of her mangled body. No one will be any wiser! Now, prepare to forget."

He spoke the incantation but Harry was quicker. The boy cast a Shield Charm, which the Memory Charm rebounded off, knocking into Lockhart. The force of the shield caused a cave in, sealing off the entrance to the Chamber.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione whispered once the dust cleared.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

They exchanged a glance as one of Lockhart's blue eyes appeared in a crack of the crumbling stone mound.

"Why, hello there! Who might you two be? Is this your house? It is lovely! I wish I had an eye for decoration like this. Er, do you happen to know who _I _am?"

Hermione grabbed Harry's wand and shot a Stunning Spell at Lockhart, ending his monologue.

"We need to find Paris," Harry finally said.

"But what are we going to do about getting back out?" Hermione questioned, furrowing her brow.

Harry sighed. "I don't know. Figure it out when the time comes?"

"What about the monster?"

"I don't know either."

"What _do_ you know?"

"That we need to find Paris!"

Hermione knew arguing would not get them anywhere. So she nodded in agreement. "What if I stay here and try to clear a path?"

"I am _not_ leaving you by yourself. Especially when you don't have a wand."

"Well if I can do it the Muggle way I should be able to get my wand from Lockhart." When he still did not seem to be too partial to her plan she said, "Harry, this is like last year when we went looking for the Sorcerer's Stone. It's something that just…feels like only you should go on and do. I might regret letting you go on your own but I know you can do it. I have faith in you."

Harry frowned but nodded anyway. He was startled when she threw her arms around his neck. He smiled grimly and set off. A door was found a ways away from where he left Hermione and Lockhart. He spoke Parseltongue to it and entered.

There, lying on the ground in the center of the Chamber was Paris Finley. He rushed over, suddenly terrified at how pale and cold she was. This was the first time he had ever seen her look weak, vulnerable; it was horrible.

Tom Riddle was there. Too concerned with trying to save an unresponsive Paris, Harry did not dwell too long on the impossibility of that situation. Riddle explained how he was there, that he came about through a memory, all the while toying with the wand Harry failed to realize he dropped. He thought Tom would help him, that he was a good man. That hope was soon dashed away as Tom revealed _he_ is the heir of Slytherin, that _he_ was the one trying to rid the school of Muggle-borns. Hagrid had nothing to do with it – he was simply a pawn used to save Tom's good name and prevent Hogwarts from closing.

It was the diary that started this whole chain of events again. Ginny had been writing in it, pouring her heart and soul into it. Because of that, Tom was able to give a little of his soul to her; literally. Through this, he possessed her and opened the Chamber again. When she realized that the diary was evil and tried to dispose of it, Harry had found it and that excited Tom. He had heard stories about the Boy Who Lived, of course. This was a surprising turn of events. He had not counted on Ginny confessing to Dumbledore, though. He was unsure how that had happened and decided to hold off on the attacks. Somehow, the diary found itself in the hands of a new person seeking sympathy: Paris.

When Tom revealed that he was actually the younger version of Lord Voldemort, Harry knew he would have to get out of there _fast_. But it was the basilisk coming after him that was even greater motivation. He killed the beast with the glimmering sword brought to him by Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix. It seemed that Riddle had the last laugh, however, as one of the beast's venomous fangs lodged itself in Harry's arm, sealing his fate. Through sheer luck, the magical phoenix healed him with tears that sparked hope and an insane desire to stab that damned diary with the basilisk fang.

So he did. And, oddly enough, it bled and "killed" Tom.

Paris stirred sleepily and instantly sat up. The motion must have caused an adverse reaction as she placed a hand on her throbbing head.

"What the hell happened?" she asked groggily. Realization dawned on her. "Oh Merlin, it was _me_ wasn't it?"

Harry said nothing, only helped her up. "We've got to get out of here," he said eventually.

She grabbed his arm, stopping his strides. "Harry, please talk to me. What happened? I don't…I don't remember anything."

He bent over to pick up the bloody diary. "This possessed you. And Ginny as a matter of fact. No one will blame you for what happened, though."

"But a boy _died_. And an elf. And all of those people that are nothing but statues…"

He placed a comforting hand on her arm. "It wasn't your fault."

She gnawed her lip in shame, speaking no more. The two wandered out of the Chamber in silence, finding Hermione standing alongside Lockhart. Fawkes flew in after them, motioning for them to grab a hold of his tail. The group soared out into the school, relief settling into their systems.

Sometime later, Lucius Malfoy stormed out of Dumbledore's office, not before Harry Potter caused him to lose his bloody house elf. That boy was an insufferable brat that _would_ get what he deserved. Who was he to accuse _the_ Lucius Malfoy of framing that stupid Weasley girl? Sure, Lucius was not particularly fond of the Weasleys but he would _never_ do such a thing. Well okay, perhaps he had come up with the idea of dumping the diary with them somehow but it had been missing for quite some time and he honestly had no idea how it ended in the redhead's hands.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

He whirled around to face whoever dared speak to him when he was on the warpath. "What do you want, girl?" he spat.

She smirked venomously; something stirred within him but he ignored it. "You liked what I did there, didn't you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, don't play dumb. You know what I'm talking about. The whole thing with the diary, yeah? That was me."

"_Excuse me_?" he repeated, though this time his voice was raised in anger.

She giggled. The wretched girl _giggled_. "It was the least I could do." The look of pure hatred on her face sincerely startled him. "After all, you had it coming. You deserve much worse, uncle."

He blanched. "Uncle?"

She nodded, smiling. "Oh yes."

"A-Artemis…?"

She nodded again. "I hope you enjoyed that play by yours truly. Make sure you keep your eye out for the next one!" She approached him leisurely and he tensed. Her lips pressed gently against his cheek and with another laugh, she skipped off down the corridor.

Lucius truly hated himself for letting that girl get to him so.


	6. Sirius

_AN: Procrastination will be my downfall. I've been so caught up in ignoring my school work and college applications and falling in love with David Tennant on Doctor Who…Yeah. This may seem unimportant but in regards to ages of the characters, Livvy is two years older than the twins and Paris (who are two years older than the Golden Trio), but because she's born after September the first, she's only a year above them in Hogwarts. Just so you know. Oh! And if any of you are on Pottermore, add me? I'm a Gryffindor! MahoganyMidnight22 :)_

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><p><span>Chapter 6: Sirius<span>

Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban, and for reasons she could not quite put her finger on, that unsettled Artemis.

She had met the man in person only once before: It was a time when she was considerably young but she had an uncanny ability to _remember_. It was also, she reminded herself, a time when he was probably completely _sane_. The memory of him lingered in her mind, a faint stamp on her subconscious of a man her childlike mentality labeled as a _god_.

She hated to admit it but he was truly beautiful: Thick dark curls framed a face bearing a haughty smirk and a wink as he passed a pretty girl. Startling ocean grey eyes waded through the dense crowd congregated in Diagon Alley, eyes that lit up as he noticed her and her escort. She cocked her head to the side, suddenly too stunned by this being to even fidget with the disgusting flouncy dress she was in.

"Artemis, come now," Narcissa snapped, grabbing her tiny hand. "And if you touch that dress one more time—"

"But I don't like it!" Artemis whined.

"That's all well and good now but don't you want a treat?"

Artemis yanked her hand free and stubbornly crossed her arms. "I'll throw a tantrum. We all know I get my way when I throw a tantrum!"

Narcissa sighed but her eyes turned cold. "Listen here, I'll—"

"Narcissa!"

The blond woman turned towards the sound of her name and scowled. "Sirius," she greeted indifferently.

"Fancy seeing you here, eh?" he said with a smile.

"What do you want, Sirius?" she asked bluntly.

He frowned, a hint of mirth still dancing in those captivating eyes. "Can't I say hi to my favorite cousin?"

"Oh, is Andromeda here, then?"

Sirius laughed. Artemis winced at the strange barking sound he made. For the first time since this encounter, he realized her presence. He bent down to be on eye level with her.

"Hello there," he grinned. "Who might you be?"

"Why do you care?" Artemis shot back.

"Who does she belong to?" he asked as he stood, chuckling at Artemis's foul disposition. "I'm almost certain she's too old for you to have had since the last time I saw you. All you've got is Draco, right?"

"She's not mine," Narcissa sighed, almost as in relief.

"Who's is she, then?" he pressed. Her aunt was saved from having to answer by another man wearing odd round spectacles.

"Hey Sirius, come look at this!" the man shouted. "Do you think Lily will like it?"

Sirius eyed Artemis critically for a moment. "Just a second, James!" he called back. He kneeled again and rummaged through his pocket. He produced a newly purchased chocolate frog and slipped it into her grasp. "You look so much like someone I know," he whispered. "Two someone's, actually. But if you are who I think you may be...Well, I hope you don't end up like her."

Artemis said nothing. She merely twiddled the bow on the side of her dress and watched him walk away.

"Who was that?" she asked once her aunt dragged her away.

"My cousin," Narcissa stated venomously. "He's no good, Artemis. A blood traitor, that's what he is. He runs around with scum and half-breeds."

Artemis nodded thoughtfully. When her aunt wasn't looking, she ripped a twitching leg off of the chocolate frog and hastily stuffed it in her mouth, an out of place smile forming on her chocolate coated lips.

The Artemis of the present frowned, toying with the card that had come with the frog. She twirled it between her fingers, scowling at the magical image of Dumbledore every time it faced her. Of course that would have been the card she collected, from Sirius Black of all people. Honestly, she could not fathom why she had kept it – did it hold some special meaning to her? None that she could think of. Why would it? Sure, it had been a rather bizarre meeting but she didn't want a keepsake from it, a silly memento that reminded her of the person her cousin once was.

Sirius escaping Azkaban had her on edge, teetering precariously on the brink of anxiety. He had escaped and, though she could hardly discern why, that troubled her. Yes, she had the ally of time on her side; the chances of Sirius remembering her would have dwindled by now. Still, he would easily identify her. Be able to point her out, call her shadow by name. He would know.

With an irritated growl, she flung the flimsy card atop a startling newspaper article with a moving photo of a potential madman.

…

The chilling sting of Azkaban assaulted his being, corrupted his fragile soul.

All Sirius was capable of doing was lying in a near comatose state, staring unseeingly at the moldy walls consuming his deteriorating mentality with a dark flourish. Somewhere in his mind, past the budding lunacy creeping up like an unwanted weed, there was a notion that his life could simply not end here. He was innocent. Innocent. Innocence was a word that beat along with his heart, a word that the rest of the country refused to hear concerning him. He knew it with every ounce of belief he held – he was an innocent man.

And the Dementors could not take that from him.

Anyone that believed he would have a hand in the death of James and Lily must have been as mad as the minds behind the hell he was living in. James was his best friend – his brother for all intents and purposes. Why in the name of Merlin would he sell him and his wife to a crazed pureblood supremacist? They were the closest things to a family he had, especially after the fallout with his own family. The Wizarding world wanted to believe that this was his fault, that he was the reason the Potters were dead.

And it was only to provide the community with a false sense of security.

They believed that they were safe having one more of those Death Eaters off of the streets. Little did they know that Sirius was not one of them, that the real culprit was still out there somewhere. Peter Pettigrew had sold his friends out and was living life among wizards and witches who believed him dead. Believed him to have been murdered at the hands of Sirius.

People would believe anything, wouldn't they?

Sirius knew he had to leave Azkaban. He was not sure how he would go about doing that, seeing as it was supposed to be impossible to break out of. But he needed to escape, to show the world just the kind of person Peter truly was. But he also wanted to give Harry the life he deserved. He figured he owed it to the young boy, being his godfather and all.

Determination to find a way out burned like wildfire when he got his hands on a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ years after he had been forced into the prison without so much as a trial. The picture on the front page had him grinning madly, sensing the _possibilities_ this little discovery held. As Dementors glided by his cell igniting a bone-chilling fear, he pocketed the article detailing an excursion to Egypt an infamous redheaded family recently took.

The Weasleys had Peter. They were his key to seeking redemption.

Peter began haunting Sirius in his sleep, pushing him closer to that sanity he could feel forming a tangible web that yearned for his touch, begged him to join the land so many other prisoners frolicked in. His thoughts circled around his old friend, revisiting everything he now knew. Peter was in Hogwarts hiding in his Animagus form. A rat. Sirius laughed at the irony.

He saw his chance to escape one day as the Dementors came to feed him. Transfiguring into his own animal form, he easily slipped through the cell bars unnoticed. He never thought he would have been happy to be so underfed.

And still, it was breaking him, this constant state of miserable confinement, even after he had broken free. Driving him to the edge of insanity, a long awaited mania. He could feel sanity's cool grip slowly slip away, being drawn from him like a soul to a Dementor. So it was no wonder he did not trust his eyes when he saw _her_.

He did not think much of it, merely doing an unconscious double take from where he sat hiding in a clump of bushes. An inkling of familiarity touched upon his thoughts but he did not heed it. Instead he let his animal instincts take over, guiding him through the shadows of England.

He flitted between shades of darkness, disguised as his inner canine. No one paid any mind to the ominous creature roaming the backstreets of civilization, combing the area for any direction. Absentmindedly, he scratched at a stray flea as his thoughts spun a continuous cycle: Find Peter. Find Harry. Peter. Harry. His heart ached at the prospect of finally meeting his godson, of finally being able to cherish the boy that he loved so very dearly. And yet the need, the fiery all-consuming desire to hunt down Pettigrew and exact his revenge for all that he had done far outweighed the positive mindset.

The happy reunion would have to wait.

Sirius awoke to the sound of muffled footfalls and a subdued humming. His ears perked and his hackles stood on end. He crouched, instantly on alert, lurking within a shrub whose thorns embedded themselves in his hide. The rational part of his mind conceded that there was probably no threat; he was a dog. No one would be any wiser. However, he was not willing to take any chances. It was much smarter to be cautious than to sit back and do absolutely nothing.

The footsteps stopped just short of his hiding spot but the humming continued. It slowed as he felt the presence draw near. He couldn't help the growl that escaped him. The leaves suddenly parted and a face swam before him.

"Hello there," a girl greeted with a benign grin. "What're you doing out here, hmm?"

Sirius shut his mouth in an attempt to silence the angry sound he was emitting. He took a step back as the girl tentatively thrust a hand forward for him to sniff – the universal sign of peace among humans and dogs.

"What's wrong, little pup?" she asked, now with a frown. "You don't think I'll hurt you, do you?" Drawing her arm back, she rummaged in a bag strapped across her back and extracted a half-eaten sandwich wrapped neatly in grease stained paper. "My mother usually tells me to share with the less fortunate; you'd fit that category, wouldn't you?"

As Sirius sniffed the offering, he began to think that maybe this girl wasn't all bad. He eagerly ate the meat covered in cheese hastily stuffed between two toasted slices of bread with a hunger he had ignored for far too long. The stranger smiled again and seated herself in the grass dampened by the park sprinklers.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked again. Sirius nudged the empty wrapper with his nose and whined pitifully. "Hang on," she said with a chuckle. She placed a scarlet red apple before him. He lay in contentment now as he gnawed on the juicy fruit he trapped between two large paws.

The girl watched him in silence, a pensive look crossing her face. Sirius allowed her to scratch his ears; he leaned into her touch, lavishing in the feel of her fingers coursing through his dirty fur.

"I know what you are," she suddenly whispered. Sirius immediately stopped chewing. His fur stood on end and he waited for her to continue, feigning nonchalance. She smiled grimly. "Why are you hiding?"

He rolled onto his side and covered his eyes with his paws, barking once.

Her hand lazily trailed his exposed stomach. "You can trust me. I know it doesn't seem like it but who else have you got?"

His head fell against the earth and he whined again.

"Let me help you," she murmured. "Please?"

He stood suddenly, towering over her sitting form. He growled, trying to convey his meaning: he could not trust her.

"Let me at least give you some place safe to stay. Food, water, shelter. Can I do that? I wouldn't feel right leaving you out here on your own."

He cocked his head to the side, wondering. She was right; he had no one to turn to, nowhere to go. This strange girl seemed to pose no threat to him.

But neither had Peter.

"What's that?" she questioned, breaking him from his reverie. She reached forward, hesitating as he growled again. Still, she grabbed the tattered newspaper he had been lying on. "You read the _Prophet_?" She smiled. "Well, that's one thing we have in common. What do you think about Sirius Black escaping?" she asked, gesturing at his mug shot plastered across the front page. He gave a little laugh. "I personally think he isn't as serious a threat as everyone makes him out to he, excuse the pun."

At that moment Sirius made his decision. He stood and shook out his matted fur. He walked by and she quickly scrambled to her feet.

"Where are you going?" she called after his retreating form. He cast a look over his shoulder as if asking "Aren't you coming?" She smirked and jogged after him, leading the way.

A few blocks away, the unlikely pair stood on the porch of a home Sirius could only describe as cookie cutter. It was nice and clean and nearly identical to every other house surrounding it. He could never imagine himself choosing to live in such a place but as of now, he did not have much of a choice. The girl fumbled under the welcome mat for a key that she shoved in the lock. Sirius hesitantly followed her into the home.

"Mum, dad?" she called as she deposited her bag on a table beside the door. Sirius trotted after her, accustoming himself to the foreign scent.

A rather posh looking woman wearing a stern bun and a crisp apron appeared before them, dainty hands positioned firmly on her thin hips. "Livvy, darling, where have you been?"

The girl, Livvy, shrugged indifferently. "I made a friend at the park."

Her mother looked down on him and her almond eyes widened. "Is-is that a dog?"

"It's not a cat, is it?"

"Don't be cheeky," she warned. "Why in the name of Merlin have you brought a dirty dog into my home?"

"Mother, you always tell me to help the less fortunate – what do you think he is?"

"Oh, your father is going to have a fit."

Livvy beckoned for Sirius to follow her as she bounded up the stairs calling loudly, "Dad! I've brought home a dog! You're not going to have a fit, are you?"

"Not at all," a man answered from somewhere within the house. "I've always fancied having a pet dog!"

Sirius grinned as best as he could at the sound of Livvy's mother sighing in frustration. "Go clean him up!" he heard her shout from downstairs.

Livvy slammed her bedroom door behind them.

She turned to him and put her hands on her hips, looking scarily like her mother. She quirked an eyebrow expectantly. "Well?"

He realized with a start that she wanted him to transform into his natural form.

"I won't tell anyone," she quickly amended. "I hope you don't think I'm being pushy. I just figured it'd be more comfortable, you know?"

He nodded.

"Wait," she interrupted as he began to pounce. She rolled up her sleeve and pulled her wand from a holster fastened just below her elbow, casting a quick spell that prevented sound from leaving the room. "Our secret," she winked.

Sirius walked to the other side of the room, hoping his determination would not crumble. He faced her and halted, suddenly unsure. She smiled reassuringly. He inhaled deeply before bounding over, transfiguring mid-jump.

Livvy gasped.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said quickly. He took an experimental step forward with arms raised in surrender, relieved when she didn't back away.

"Y-you're him!" she exclaimed. She pulled the folded Prophet article out of her pocket and thrust it in his face. "He's you! Oh my Merlin, this is unbelievable!"

Sirius couldn't bring himself to smile.

"Livvy?" They both froze at the sound of her mother's voice growing close. "I thought you were going to bathe the dog? You're not using magic, are you?"

"I would never," Livvy shouted back after cancelling the spell, throwing another wink Sirius's way. "I'm, er, just straightening up my room; I'll clean him later!"

Her mother popped her head in the door. Sirius instantly hit the floor. "I want him to smell as good as a field of daisies, okay?"

Livvy nodded with a roll of her eyes. "Yes, mum, he'll smell like sunshine and daisies. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"But you haven't even had dinner yet," she objected as Livvy closed the door on her.

"I ate on the way home, sorry!" She leaned against the door and heaved a sigh.

"Is she gone?" Sirius whispered from the floor.

Livvy peered out into the hall. "Yes, it's safe to come out."

He pulled himself into the desk chair. "I'm sure she'd be thrilled that you're housing a fugitive in your bedroom."

She flopped onto the bed and grinned. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her. I'm Olivia, by the way. Olivia Wells." Their eyes met for a moment. "You can call me Livvy, though. Everyone else does."

He nodded.

"So what's your story? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

Sirius sighed. He knew this would come up eventually, that her curiosity would get the better of her. But she was willingly taking him in. Didn't he owe it to her to explain?

"I was framed," he stated bluntly.

"Oh?" was all she said.

"I'm sure you've heard what happened the night that—" He choked on the rest of his sentence.

"You don't have to say anything," she said gently, sitting up and watching him warily.

He shook his head. "No, I'll have to say it eventually. I'm sure you've heard it anyway." He drew a shaky breath and continued slowly. "The night Lily and...James were m-murdered, I was believed to have been the one to sell them to Voldemort." He ignored Olivia's startled gasp. "Everyone thought that I was their Secret-Keeper. It made sense: there was no one else that could have known where they were. But at the last minute I convinced them to make Peter Pettigrew the Secret-Keeper. I was an obvious choice; no one would suspect him."

He chuckled darkly. "Who would have known that little spineless Peter Pettigrew had joined the dark side?" The look on his face had Olivia frozen in fear. "He sold out his best friends. He had them murdered. He had their son face the Darkest wizard to have ever lived." His voice wavered and his lower lip trembled. He hardly realized Olivia beside him, her hand on his shoulder. "He's the reason I lost two of my best friends and a little boy lost his parents and his security. He's the—"

Something occurred to him in that moment as he fought the sudden onslaught of misery with a girl he hardly knew attempting to console him. "Olivia. Livvy," he began, the name rolling off of his tongue uncertainly, "you go to Hogwarts, don't you?"

"Yes," she answered. It came out sounding like a question.

"Then you must know Harry," he reasoned eagerly.

"I-I suppose I do," she admitted. "I can't say we're good friends, though – I'm three years ahead of him."

He waved that off. "It's not important. But you see him, right? Talk to him?"

"Well yes, we're in the same house."

"Which is that?"

"Gryffindor."

Sirius whooped victoriously. Livvy grimaced and looked outside, making sure her parents didn't hear.

"I knew he'd follow in his dad's footsteps," he whispered gleefully. "He's a lion through and through I bet!"

Livvy rolled her eyes. "For sure. His first year at Hogwarts he went after the Sorcerer's Stone and last year he faced a basilisk. Who knows what he'll get up to this year?"

Sirius was all smiles. "A _basilisk_? You don't say! What about pranks? That was my specialty back in the day."

"That's more of Fred and George's thing."

"Fred and George?"

"The Weasley twins. They're a right riot, you know? McGonagall's going grayer by the minute when they're around."

Sirius was going to comment about his own pranks when he remembered something. "Weasleys you say?" She nodded and he pulled another tattered addition of the Prophet from the folds of his prison garments. He smoothed it across the bed before her, revealing a smiling portrait of the Weasley family in Egypt. "You know them then?"

"Of course. I'm a year above the twins in school but we're good friends. My parents and I visited them over in Egypt the other day."

"Who's that?"

She peered at the face his dirty nail hovered over. "Oh, that's Ron. He's Harry's best mate."

Sirius tried to ignore the overwhelming emotions. "Lily would have liked that," he finally choked out. He cleared his throat, silently thanking Olivia for not saying anything. "What, er, do you know about the rat?"

"The rat?" she repeated slowly. He nodded. "They call him Scabbers. He used to belong to one of Ron's older brothers Percy. He found him wandering outside of their house or something so he kept him. Why do you ask?"

"Peter Pettigrew is still alive and I need to find him."

"But the rat—I don't understand."

"Is there anything unusual about Scabbers?"

She shrugged, still not seeing the connection. "I think he's missing a toe or something like that."

"And if you remember correctly, all that was found of Peter was a—"

"A finger," she gasped, eyes widening. "You're not saying—"

"That is exactly what I'm saying."

"Ron's pet rat is a murderer who was presumed dead?" She laughed humorlessly. "This is crazy!"

He sighed. "You don't believe me."

"I don't know what to believe."

"Dammit, believe what I'm saying! I haven't lost my sanity. Yet, anyway. I know what I'm talking about!"

"All right, all right," she conceded. "How do you plan on getting to this rat?"

"I'll have to find Ron."

"And how do you plan on doing _that_?"

"I don't know," he admitted tiredly. "I could go find him at Hogwarts or their home or something. You're friends with the Weasleys, aren't you? Maybe you could get a hold of him."

"Firstly, how do you plan on getting into Hogwarts? And secondly, Ron's oddly protective of that thing. I'm not sure he'd willingly hand him over."

"That's why you don't ask him for it," Sirius said as if it were the most obvious thing. "Anyway, I know all about the secret ways into Hogwarts; that's not a problem. It's actually getting Peter that should be the hard part."

"Don't you think Peter would know you're after him, though? He's bound to be more cautious."

"I've thought of that, yes. However, he would never expect you to be after him."

"I guess I can try," she finally said, hanging upside down over the edge of her bed. "What're you going to do once you've got him?"

"Get the justice both the Potters and I deserve," he answered bitterly. "Peter won't get away with this."

"Livvy, I know for a fact you have not washed that dog yet!" Olivia groaned as her mother neared her bedroom. She quickly headed for the hallway to cut her off.

"Mum, I told you I was cleaning my room," Sirius heard her argue.

"I expect your quarters to be absolutely spotless. Let me see."

"It's not done yet!"

Sirius grabbed Olivia's wand from where it sat on her nightstand and cast a silent spell, watching as her room tidied itself. When everything was in its place, he quickly changed into his dog form.

"Mum, I—" Livvy hesitated, facing a room she was positive was not this neat a minute ago.

Her mother walked about the space, eyeing everything furtively. Once she determined it was to her liking, she demanded the dog be just as clean. Livvy nodded stiffly and turned to where Sirius now stood.

"What do I call you?" she asked. He was thrown off guard by the question. Then she rephrased it. "The dog, I mean. Do I call him Sirius as well?"

"You can call him Padfoot, I suppose. Or Snuffles if you'd like."

"Do I really have to bathe Padfoot?" she asked with a frown.

Sirius chuckled dryly. "No, you don't have to. Perhaps just show Sirius the bathroom and he'll take care of it."

She nodded. "Alright, hang on." She threw her closet open and rummaged in a large bag, tossing fresh clothes at Sirius when she found what she was looking for. "I was supposed to give those to a homeless shelter but I never got around to it. That used to be my dad's but I figure you'll get better use of it. The bathroom's right down the hall and a closet beside it has towels and the like inside. Have at it."

He began to walk but stopped, turning to her. "Your parents?"

"Mum's running to the grocer's for something or another. I'll go occupy my dad so he won't happen across you at any moment."

"Okay," Sirius said. "It'll be nice to get clean; haven't had a good wash in years."

"I can see that," she teased with a smirk.

Sirius mock glared at her. "Thank you, Livvy. For everything."

She shrugged. "No problem. Are you going or what?"

Sirius silently exited the room and tiptoed across the hall. After gathering everything he needed, he turned the shower on to the hottest temperature possible and slipped under the steaming water. He could feel years of dirt, grime, and stress melt away under the force of the water. Scrubbing his skin raw, he lavished in the scent of cleanliness. For a moment, he could believe that nothing was the matter, that he was safe in this warm haven. That he was not a fugitive hiding away in an innocent girl's home.

With a sigh, he turned the tap off and dried himself. He pulled the strange clothes on and raked his fingers through his long hair. On the short journey back to Livvy's room, his eyes combed the family portraits lining the walls. Livvy and her parents smiled at him, occasionally waving or walking out of the frame if they were bored. He imagined himself in their place, beaming with pride at an imaginary wife and a handsome little boy. Maybe he would have had pictures of Harry displayed around his own home had he not been imprisoned for years.

The life he could have had came rushing to his senses with such force: He pictured himself awaiting a veiled bride, Marlene McKinnon maybe, at the end of a walkway doused in rose petals. The pair tenderly kissed, binding themselves together forever. They would have moved into a nice home, preferably one beside James and Lily. Every Saturday the friends would meet for tea and biscuits, reminiscing about their golden Hogwarts years. Their children would grow up together and become the best of friends. They would grow old and gray together, smiling all the while.

But happy endings don't exist, do they?

"Sirius?"

He hadn't realized he had made it back to Livvy's room and promptly curled into a fetal position on the wood-paneled floor. He tried to steady his desperate breathing and leveled a look at her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, kneeling beside him. The concern in her face made him want to cry again.

"Why does the world have to be so cold?" he wondered, not truly seeking an answer.

She sighed and gently ran her hand along his damp hair. "I know you've been through a lot but you're strong – you've got to keep fighting."

"What for?" he shot back.

"For Harry. He needs you, Sirius."

Her words stung with painful truth. She was right; of course she was. Harry was his reason for surviving, the reason he didn't throw himself off of the nearest building. Harry needed him.

"I brought you up something to eat." She pushed a plate of a tantalizing brisket towards him. He instantly dug in. "I'm not sure where you want to sleep," she said as he attacked his meal with a feral hunger and downed the glass of chilled pumpkin juice. "I can set you up in the attic but my parents will probably expect Padfoot to sleep in here with me. They're Richard and Evangeline, by the way. My parents. Anyway, what do you think?"

Sirius rubbed his greasy fingers against the cotton of his trousers. "I don't want to be alone," he admitted, hating how weak he sounded.

Livvy offered a thin smile. "Here it is, then." She brought a bundle of quilts and pillows into the room, which she positioned on the floor in a makeshift bed. Once Sirius was situated, she crawled into her own bed. "I guess we can figure where to go next in the morning, yeah?"

"Yeah," he mumbled sleepily.

"Sweet dreams, Sirius."

"Good night, Livvy."

…

There was a girl there, lingering on the edge of a shadow, taunting him with sharp-edged words. Her face shrouded in darkness bore no mark of resemblance but here, hiding in his own subconscious, he knew exactly who she was.

Her eyes were the color of silver fire, much like his own, but they did not dance with the mirth he thrived on. Instead, they held deadly curses and cruel intentions that could end his life before he could even draw a breath, let alone a wand. She drew closer, silhouette suddenly manifesting into a person nearly identical, yet older to her.

Closer she drew, until Sirius found himself uncomfortably close to the cold stone wall. She pressed him against it, icy breath caressing the tingling skin of his perspiring face.

"Watch yourself," she whispered silkily before trading words with poisonous lips stealing a deathly kiss, robbing his very essence.

Sirius awoke with a start, barely refraining from screaming out in fright. Livvy swore loudly and fumbled with the lamp standing tall and proud on her nightstand.

"What is that?" Sirius wondered curiously, shielding his eyes from the strange unnatural glow.

"Electric light," she responded dully, voice clouded with sleep. "Mum likes to keep in touch with her Muggle side. Are you all right?"

"Never been better," he muttered sarcastically.

He could feel Livvy roll her eyes. "Fine, don't tell me. I give you about five seconds to turn back into a dog."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

No sooner had he transfigured back to Padfoot than a portly man with a head full of thinning hair burst into the room in nothing but a nightgown. His eyes were wild, scanning between his frowning daughter and the dog seemingly asleep on the floor beside her bed.

"I'm alright, daddy," Livvy yawned. "I had a bad dream, is all."

"Are you sure, pumpkin?" Richard Wells urged, patting Livvy's head.

"Yes, I'm sure. Have you met Padfoot?"

He turned to look at the dog. "No, I can't say I have. What an interesting name for a dog!" Crouching ever so slightly, he ran a hand along the dog's freshly cleaned pelt. Sirius quirked an eye open but made no move. "I suppose I'll let you two get back to sleep," Richard finally said, standing. "If you have another dream, feel free to come find me."

Livvy pecked him on the cheek and snuggled under her duvet again, turning her back to the man as he wished her good night. Sirius curled up onto his little bed, falling victim to exhaustion in his animal form.

He awoke sometime later, completely and utterly alone. Panic settled into his bones, prying at his skeleton with an animalistic hunger. The fear of being by himself, forever alone, gnawed at his insides, presenting the desire to rest in the fetal position like he had done so many times before trapped in his cell at Azkaban.

He forced himself up, forced himself to become human again. Shaky fingers groped the nightstand, pulling him up with all of the energy he could muster. His fingers caressed something flat with a pointed edge, something that was not there before. Curious, he brought it towards his face, feeling the grooves carved into the parchment under the weight of Olivia's heavy quill.

"_My parents thought I was crazy for insisting on staying home with a dog_," the note began. "_They forced me to accompany them on a journey to the London slums where we will assist the needy_." He could almost picture the eye roll this statement caused. "_It's not exactly how I planned on spending my holiday but oh well. I'll be back later but until then, make yourself at home._"

She signed it off with her proper name and a hastily drawn smile. Sirius himself grinned. He pocketed the note and, after ensuring he was indeed alone, he ventured outside of the bedroom.

He tried to freshen up as best as he could in the loo and wandered down the stairs. The sitting room was through a door past the last step. It was covered in more family pictures, showing the Wells' life through the years. He noted with a little smirk that most of the early photos showed Olivia with a terribly sour face.

He cautiously sat on the prim sofa and eyed the strange Muggle contraptions speculatively. Across from him was a little box with dials on it beside another one of those lamps with ecklectric light. He vaguely remembered Lily explaining its function years ago. He toyed with the dials, startled when a flashing image appeared on the glass screen. Sound increased as he rolled one of the dials, blaring through the empty home. He began to panic, quickly trying to find a way to make the noise stop. Angrily, he hit the side of the box.

It stopped.

Standing proudly, he feigned nonchalance as he sauntered out of the room. He found himself in the kitchen and almost immediately, his stomach rumbled loudly. He peered into the pantry, finding nothing of particular interest there. Hoping to not have a repeat of the living room fiasco, Sirius gingerly pulled open an odd door that revealed a chilled food storage room that, he noted intelligently, ran solely on that ecklectricity.

Cold mist surrounded him and he was sure he heard angels singing.

Quickly assembling a sandwich with the leftover brisket from the dinner Evangeline Wells prepared last night, Sirius found himself happily chomping away in front of that mysterious picture box. He liked to believe he had mastered it somewhat, enjoying watching an image of a pretty blond speak about what was going on in Muggle England. He was mesmerized by the movement of her lips, stained red, until the picture flashed to something all too familiar: a photo of him, in Azkaban, with a caption spelling out the threat of an escaped murderer.

The sandwich suddenly seemed horribly unappetizing.

Sirius stood abruptly, feeling uneasy. The world believed he was a danger, a menace to society. Minister for Magic Fudge had even gone so far as to alert the Muggle news. His stomach gave a nasty little lurch; why had he been placed in this situation? Why had no one given him the time of day, or even a filthy little ounce of belief? Now here he was, hiding away in someone else's home watching the world cower in fear because of his very existence.

He regretted not finding that building to jump off of.

He punched the button on the box that shut it off and slipped out the back door. Transfiguring into Padfoot, he bounded over the low fence of the Wells yard and ran, full speed, through the intimidating streets of the city. Every pound of his paws against the scorching cement solidified his own belief that he was indeed a menace. A liar. A murderer. He very well could have turned the wand on his best friends. After all, he was the one that convinced James to make Peter the Secret-Keeper.

This was his fault.

He deserved the fate the Wizarding world wanted for him.

"I wondered when you'd arrive."

He skidded to a halt on the uneven sidewalk, multiple legs staggering dangerously from the sudden lack of motion. His hackles immediately rose, followed by a sense of threat and dread coursing through Sirius like an angry flood. He growled at the entrance of the darkened alley, backing slowly from the spot. He hoped in vain someone would see him, come to his rescue. This person that he still could not see left him with an awful feeling of foreboding.

And he didn't even have a wand.

"Relax, I won't hurt you," the distinctly female voice said, shadow moving nearer. Then she paused thoughtfully. "Not yet, anyway."

Sirius barked once and turned to run. He was hit from behind with a silent Cruciatus curse. Fire licked at his insides, enveloping him in tainted pain. His high-pitched squeals reverberated off of the surrounding buildings before stopping, leaving only a pitiful whimper in its place.

The woman approached him now, crouching slightly to get a better look at the fallen dog. "Don't you want to play, Sirius?" she taunted with a sneer that jolted Sirius with a pang of familiarity.

He flinched as the wand hovered over him but soon he was himself again, cowering on the dirty ground. "What do you want?" he stammered breathlessly.

"I've been waiting for you," she said instead, blinding him with her brilliant smile. "How does it feel to be a free man, love?"

"I'm hardly free," he spat, attempting to stand. She jabbed her wand in his direction and he froze. "What do you want?" he demanded again.

She laughed, not at all kind. "Haven't your parents taught you better? I suppose if they had, you wouldn't have turned into a filthy blood traitor, hmm?"

"Piss off," he murmured.

The pain hit him again, suffocating him, blinding him, killing him. He gasped for breath, reaching forward, praying for Merlin to save his soul.

"Now, Sirius, play nice," she smirked. "It's been far too long, wouldn't you say?"

"Who are you?" he whispered.

"What's going on here?" another voice called from somewhere behind them. A man dressed in grime-covered jeans and a shirt torn from overuse rushed forward, his steps slapping the ground loudly. "What have you—Have you killed that man?"

The woman didn't as much as flinch at the accusation. She lowered her hood and advanced on the wide-eyed intruder, grinning venomously. "How about a game?"

"I-I don't think so," he stuttered, taking a step back. "Look, lady, I don't want any trouble. I just—"

"I like games," she interrupted, drawing something from her pocket. With a flick of her wand, it expanded to reveal a golden bow. "Play," she commanded in a firm voice, brandishing a sharp arrow. The man need not be told twice. He took off running down the alleyway, tripping over a trashcan. Sirius couldn't look away.

An arrow went sailing through the air with such grace and precision that Sirius might have believed that it was magic, not human force that had caused it. It cut through the distance, slicing away at the meters between it and its prey with the venomous touch of a facetious lover. Finally, the abrupt tip lodged itself into the Muggle's back, eliciting a pained screech. The sound intensified as Death chased after, brandishing its dark nature.

Putting away the bow, the woman sauntered after the man who was still withering away on the floor. He twitched spasmodically, sobbing horrendously from the pain's icy grip. Before retrieving her arrow, she shoved it farther into his body, silencing him once and for all. Sirius sat, mesmerized as she yanked it free.

"Something new I've fixed up," she explained calmly, walking back towards Sirius. "Arrows dipped in a poison that causes the same effects as the Cruciatus." Repulsion pulsed through Sirius as she ran a finger along the arrow's dirty tip, seductively placing the bloodied limb between two red lips. "Neat, isn't it?"

"You're sick," he accused.

She shrugged indifferently. "Not as sick as you."

"You didn't have to kill him!"

She gave him a serious look. "Of course I did. He doesn't deserve to live anyway." She waved a hand dismissively. "That's not what I'm here for, though."

"What, are you going to turn me in?" he questioned bitterly.

"Now why would I do that? You have something I want."

"And that is?"

"A way out of Azkaban."

He stiffened, glancing warily at the wand positioned several centimeters away if he refused to cooperate. She smirked, catching his gaze.

"I want someone out," she continued.

"Can I ask who?"

"The Lestranges," she answered nonchalantly, staring blandly at her nails.

"Why would you want them out?" he bit out in a clipped tone.

She did not answer right away. Instead, she lowered herself to the ground beside him and smiled. "Because blood," she began. Sirius gasped in pain as she pulled the tip of her arrow across the flesh of his forearm, "is thicker than water." She shot a stream of cool liquid on the gash that burned like lightning. His body convulsed from the poison running its way through his system.

In a moment of fury, Sirius lunged for her with every intention of wrapping his arms around her naked throat. She was quicker, jabbing the arrow into his leg before he could reach her. He bit into his lower lip, swallowing a scream and drops of blood.

"Who are you?" he asked again. It hit him then, causing him to grimace. The smirk painted a poignant tale of a vivid nightmare spoiled with vibrant colors of fear. "You're one of them, aren't you?"

"The Lestranges?" she questioned. "You're one of them, too."

He wanted nothing more than to spit in her cruel face. "I can't get them out," he finally said.

She slapped him. "Why not?"

He barked out a dull laugh. "I don't even know how I did it."

She growled in frustration.

"It'll take the hand of Voldemort himself to get those bastards out."

She aimed her wand at his face. "You could've had glory, Sirius," she whispered. "You could've been a free man."

"I wouldn't want to be free if it meant being like you."

He was startled when she dropped her wand and came forward again. As if it were his dream, she looked him square in his eyes, a stormier gray than her own, and possessed his lips with her own.

"Watch yourself, Sirius."

And then everything teetered into the darkness.

…

"Are you sure you're alright?" Livvy asked for what Sirius felt was the hundredth time.

And yet again, he gave a stiff nod before turning away to look at the intricate lamp on the nightstand. Livvy huffed but said no more.

The truth was, however, Sirius was not all right. He was still a bit shaken from his encounter with the girl whose name he could not quite remember (he vaguely noted it was something to do with a Greek goddess). He had found himself on Livvy's front step after he had blacked out with no recollection of how he had made it there. The Wells came home to find their new dog injured and almost catatonic, completely baffled as to how he had gotten out of the home.

The girl had spooked him, which he was sure of. If he had had a wand, then perhaps he could have had the upper hand. But the point was this person, this girl who was in some way his family, was not to be taken lightly.

She had made sure of that.

Curiosity had gotten the better of him, though. The Wells made a habit of leaving him alone to go tend to the needy. Naturally, he used these moments to explore the surrounding area as Padfoot. He was shocked one day as his four legs carried him to the exact spot he had met the mysterious person. A tingle of resentment hit him when he discovered she was not there.

The next day he found success.

"I see you're back," she greeted darkly. "Have you decided to seek redemption? Have you tired of hiding away in a naive girl's home? I can give you the freedom you so desperately desire."

Sirius scoffed.

"Why do you keep coming back?" she asked from where she as propped upon an abandoned dining room table. "It's almost as if you want to see me." Her eyes darkened with hunger. "Do you?"

He shook his head, raven curls swirling about madly.

"It doesn't seem that way," she noticed, eyeing him peculiarly.

"Why do you want the Lestranges out?"

She lifted one shoulder into the air. "A family reunion of sorts, my dear boy."

"Oh?"

She nodded, never taking her eyes off of him. "We can all live together as one happy family. Will you join us?"

It was at that time that Sirius took off running as Padfoot.

It was not just that that was affecting him. He had yearned to see Harry once more, if only for a moment. Driven by the desire, he bounded through the streets cloaked in a steamy night, relishing in the feel of the air thick with dry heat ruffling his fur. His heart suddenly clenched in excitement.

Harry was stood before him.

He was nearly identical to James, which made the sight even worse. Thick black hair standing up at awkward angles covered one of the only significant differences: a jagged lightning bolt scar. And his eyes, how was it possible that he was staring into Lily's eyes? The sight created turmoil of emotions boiling through him: rage, anxiety, depression.

Harry looked directly at him then, clearly startled. He fell over the trunk he was rolling beside him and the Knight Bus suddenly appeared. Hesitantly, he accepted the pimply teenager's hand and boarded the vehicle. Sirius wasn't sure what to do.

So he ran back to Livvy's house.

The next morning the girl awoke to find him staring unseeingly at the bare bedroom wall. He refused to move, or even transfigure back to his human form so he could speak to her.

"Sirius, honestly, are you okay?" she asked again.

He barked once in annoyance.

"Well at least you've finally said something," she muttered, rising from her bed with the cold plate of food she had offered him.

Sirius coughed out a delicate sigh and stood, shaking out the kinks in his tense legs. When he was alone, he finally reverted back to normal. For a moment, he stared morosely out of the curtained window, wishing he could be out there carelessly roaming the sun kissed land with others.

The door suddenly banged open and a high-pitched scream hit his ears.

"Fucking Christ," he heard Livvy whisper fiercely as she dashed into the room. An intense stare down was transpiring between him and a girl who, oddly enough, resembled a taller version of Olivia. But there was a darker edge to her features, one that sent a familiar terror piercing through his veins. He gasped and backed away, horribly reminded of that Lestrange girl.

"What the hell is this?" the stranger snapped, her voice muffled from Livvy's hands wrapped firmly over her mouth.

"Let me explain," Livvy hissed, dragging her into the room.

"Olivia?" Evangeline called from downstairs. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, mum!" Livvy answered as she slowly withdrew her hands. Instantly, the girl began screaming again. "Paris, stop it!"

"Sirius bloody Black is standing in your room!" Paris argued shrilly.

Sirius reached for Livvy's wand and Paris only screamed louder. "Relax," he responded blandly, tired of this little game. He cast a silent spell, one that would give them a bit of privacy. As much as he hated Severus Snape, the man knew how to craft a good spell. "I didn't want your parents to hear."

"Oh, so you can murder us without any witnesses?" Paris accused.

Livvy slapped a hand against her forehead. "Stop it, will you? There's nothing wrong with him."

"He's a bloody murderer! He bloody sold the Potters to You-Know-Who!"

"If you say bloody one more time I'll make sure you're bloody before you leave."

Sirius's lips twitched. Paris huffed and threw herself onto the edge of the bed, stubbornly folding her arms. "Well?" she prompted.

"Sirius didn't do any of that," Livvy began. "The stuff you and everyone else think he did, I mean."

Paris rolled her eyes. "Then who did?"

"The rat," Sirius interjected in a monotone.

"The rat?"

"Scabbers," Olivia offered. "He's an Animagus."

"Yeah, right."

"No, I'm serious! He's Peter Pettigrew."

"This is ludicrous."

Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose. He explained in a rush, "I had the Potters switch their Secret-Keeper to Peter at the last minute but he told Voldemort where to find them so when I found out what he did I went after him but he made it look like it was my fault and he blew up all of those Muggles and lost his finger and all but sent me to Azkaban himself where I escaped years later to find him for revenge but then Olivia found me and now here we are."

The two girls blinked in surprise at his outburst. After a minute's silence, Paris awkwardly cleared her throat. "Well, I guess Livvy wouldn't allow you to quarter here unless what you're saying is true, so..."

Olivia nodded. "Thank you. Now, what are you doing here, Paris?"

"I just wanted to see your pretty little face," she responded with a coy wink. Livvy scoffed. "Oh! Did you hear what happened to Harry?"

"Is he okay?" Sirius asked urgently.

Paris was clearly uncomfortable having to answer him. "Um, well he's alright, yeah. But he blew up his aunt!"

"Pardon?"

"Not, you know, like kaboom. More like a balloon."

Livvy chuckled. "How'd he work that one out?"

"She was saying some rubbish about his parents and he just...lost it. They say it took nearly ten wizards to get the fat lump on the ground."

"Petunia?" Sirius wondered.

"No, her name was Mage or something. Anyway, Harry ended up on the Knight Bus and is at the Leaky Cauldron now."

"He's going to get expelled, isn't he?" Livvy asked with a frown.

"That's the thing!" Paris exclaimed eagerly, leaning towards her captive audience. "Fudge isn't doing anything!"

"Why?" Sirius asked.

Paris averted her eyes. "Er, because of you."

Livvy's face turned sour. "How so?"

"Fudge reckons Potter's got enough going on as it is, what with a murderer 'coming after him'," she said, forming air quotes around her words. "He doesn't want to add the issue of expulsion onto that."

Sirius sighed. "At least me escaping has done something right. I wouldn't have wanted him expelled."

"Fred and George say he's doing all right," Paris assured him.

"Fred and George?" Olivia repeated.

"Oh, yeah. The Weasleys are with Harry at the Leaky. They're the ones that told me about this. The twins Flooed your house just now to tell you about it."

"_What_? Honestly, Paris, what have I told you about answering my Floo calls?"

"You were going to find out eventually!"

"That doesn't mean you can invade my privacy like that!"

"Privacy? What privacy? We're all friends here, there's no such thing called privacy!"

Sirius ignored their bickering, choosing to stare out of the window once more. Harry had almost been expelled but it was because the world saw him, Sirius, as a threat that he was able to return to Hogwarts. Now he was happily spending the last few days of summer with his friends in Diagon Alley and—

He stiffened, thoughts running at top speed.

"Excuse me," he said, cutting across the girls' argument, "but did you say Harry and the Weasleys are at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Erm, yes," Paris responded.

"Ron would be with them as well, correct?"

"Yeah."

Olivia groaned, obviously seeing where this was going. "We can't steal Scabbers! Not right now!"

Paris furrowed her brows. "Why would we steal Scabbers?"

"To clear my name," Sirius declared.

"It's too risky," Livvy decided.

Sirius glared at her. "Well can I at least go to the Alley for a new wand? Azkaban had this silly little belief that prisoners shouldn't possess wands."

Paris giggled. The others looked at her and she instantly sobered. "Um, it would probably be wise for him to get a wand, Livvy."

Livvy rounded on her. "And how do we do that?"

"Magic of course."

Nearly an hour later, the trio arrived in the Leaky Cauldron via Floo. Paris and Livvy immediately headed towards the entrance to Diagon Alley while Sirius hesitated. His hair was a golden blond and his eyes were an airy blue. He almost didn't recognize himself but he feared someone else would.

"Come on!" Livvy beckoned. With a sigh, he followed her into Diagon Alley.

She took him into a rowdy little pub he vaguely remembered sneaking into when he was younger. Called the Phoenix Talon, it had the reputation of being one of the unruliest places this side of the Alley.

"Isn't this place a bit…disorderly for someone like you?" he shouted above the raucous sound of drinking wizards. He flinched as someone was roughly slammed into a wall beside them.

Livvy skillfully slipped through the dense crowd, finding a table for them. Seating herself opposite Sirius, she smiled indifferently. "I suppose this is my act of rebellion against my parents."

"I'm off to get drinks," Paris announced, ducking back into the madness.

Sirius watched as the bartender greeted her like an old friend. "How often do you two come here?" he asked incredulously.

"Used to be every weekend," Livvy answered, waving at another bar patron. "You know," she said absentmindedly, "you look good as a blond."

Sirius cracked a smile for what felt like the first time in ages. Suddenly, he erupted into loud laughter, drawing looks from those nearby. But he didn't care; he finally felt carefree, if only for a few minutes. Being here in a pub with a horrible reputation laughing at something trivial felt nice. Livvy chuckled along with him and they were still laughing by the time Paris returned with three bottles of butterbeer.

Later that day, the girls left Sirius to enter Ollivander's alone. Something about the Weasley twins and Zonko's had them walking the opposite way. He cringed as the little bell dinged overhead. Uncertain footsteps led him to the empty counter.

"Hello?" he called.

"Ah, Mr. Black," a voice spoke behind him. He nearly jumped out of his skin. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"H-How did you know it was me?" Sirius stammered, attempting to calm his frantic heart.

Mr. Ollivander smiled cheerfully. "I am a man of many talents, my dear boy. I assume you are in need of a new wand, yes? It is truly a shame you have lost your old one."

Sirius watched as the older man glided around the shop, grabbing this and that. He couldn't help but ask, "Aren't you going to turn me in?"

Ollivander raised one snowy white brow. "I do not concern myself with silly politics, Mr. Black. We all know your capture is a way to calm the masses and win public approval for Minister Fudge. However, I never believed you were at fault for what happened thirteen years ago."

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? Here, try this. It is much like your old choice."

For the next hour, Sirius allowed himself to be taken in by the magic of the wands. When he had found the right one, he instantly felt better. Having paid with stray galleons he had discovered within the pockets of Mr. Wells' old robes, he exited the shop feeling renewed.

And there, on the other side of the alley, was a young redheaded boy holding a squirming rodent.

"Don't," a voice whispered from beside him. Livvy placed a restraining hand on his arm, which had risen with every intention of killing the rat. He gaped at her, fury written across his face. "Let Paris and me find a way of getting him. Let us help you."

"I don't need your help," he spat, shaking her hand off.

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Then I suppose you don't need my home or my food anymore. Or that wand that you purchased with galleons I conveniently left out for you."

He had the good grace to look ashamed.

"I thought so," she smirked, sauntering away.

Sirius resigned himself to observing the Weasley family from afar. There in their midst was Harry. He watched him intently, observing the gait of what could only belong to a star Quidditch player. He watched as he laughed at something one of his friends said. He noticed the uncanny resemblance the boy had to a man that was all but Sirius's natural brother, the vivid green eyes that had so often looked at him with scorn that hid the true amusement Lily felt towards him. And as he smiled, memories swirling over him, his gaze met the stormy gray eyes of that girl, the one he had met not too long ago.

The eyes smiled back at him from a place he would have never expected.


End file.
